


Morning Variations I thru V

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-15
Updated: 2000-11-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder and Krycek get drunk with surprising results





	Morning Variations I thru V

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Morning After the Night Before by Jennie

Title: The Morning After the Night Before   
Author: Jennie   
Feedback:   
Webpage: [archivist's note: website address given by author is no longer valid]  
Pairing: M/Sk/K  
Rating: R for cussing and implied m/m sex   
Series: Mornimg Variations #1  
Archive: Yes to RatB and WWOMB, Others, please ask   
Disclaimer: Not mine, just giving them a little exercise.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Mulder and Krycek get drunk with surprising results  
Notes: Thanks to Teri W and Emily T for feedback and encouragement and for the first rate beta job. This one's for Sandra B.

* * *

The Morning After the Night Before   
By Jennie

A deeply buried protective instinct warned him that even his normally slow pattern of awakening would do serious damage on this particular morning. For reasons he couldn't quite grasp at the moment, simply continuing to sleep was not an option. He drowsily pondered the problem. A gentle wave of nausea cautioned against even the most vague of thoughts.

He sighed and shifted ever so slightly.

The resulting pain of a jackhammer pounding against the inside of his skull had him in immediate and full retreat. He was back asleep in seconds.

Until that nagging sense that he really must get up, once again, disturbed his slumber. Forewarned, he was not so precipitous this time around. He started with the small toe on his right foot. Everything checked out just dandy, so he moved carefully onward. When he reached his ankle an unexpected sensation slowed him. He stopped and evaluated. Decided that a strange foot in his bed was not necessarily a bad thing and bravely resumed his exploration of the remote possibility of waking up. A bit at a time, he allowed sensation to return to his shattered and most probably ruined for life body.

The body next to him snuffled and moved a little closer. The evidence was becoming incontrovertible; he'd actually gotten lucky last night. He was doing his best to recall how and when said luckiness might have happened, when his bedmate slipped one leg to rest on top of his and an arm wrapped itself around his middle.

Uh oh.

A hairy leg in his bed was just not something a guy could ignore. Not even under the most extreme of conditions. He frowned as he struggled to turn and open his eyes.

It was too much, too soon. He sank back down and covered his head with his pillow, beating the nausea back with sheer determination. A quiet groan escaped him as the pounding in his head returned with a vengeance.

His gymnastics seemed to be bringing the unknown person back to consciousness. A rather vague, "Hmmm?" could be heard coming from a mouth somewhere in the vicinity of his right ear. A muffled snort, followed soon by decidedly masculine grumblings would have had him at least opening his eyes to take a look... if imminent death-by-headache had not stopped him.

His mystery guest wakened even more, shifting again to rest a very scratchy chin against his shoulder. What in the hell had he been drinking last night, anyway?

And, more to the point, with whom had he been doing the drinking?

He'd just decided that he had to know more when... another snuffle, a groan... and an uncomfortably familiar voice spoke: "What the..."

He knew what was coming next... been there... would be there again soon, himself...

A pained moan came from the body next to him as it dropped back into a prone position. "My god, what the fuck have I done?"

The voice, weak thought it was, confirmed Mulder's awful suspicion. "Krycek," he growled. Well, he tried to growl. He'd forgotten that he had a damned pillow on his face. He threw it aside and tried again. "What the hell are you doing in my bed, Krycek?"

The hand on his chest moved carefully, testing the hairy skin and coming to a stop at his flat nipples. "Ooooh fuck.. Wha... Who the fuck?"

In spite of the pain that his action would definitely cause - Mulder absolutely could not miss this - he turned his head a bit and slitted his eyes open the merest fraction of an inch. His sacrifice was worth it. Well and indeed worth it, he decided as he watched Alex Krycek's green eyes widen in horror at finding Mulder waiting to meet them.

Krycek did what any sensible man would do under the circumstances... He covered his eyes with his hand and moaned piteously. After a moment to gather his understandably scattered wits, Alex spoke very softly, keeping in mind his own and Mulder's currently rather delicate conditions. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"I live here, asshole."

Krycek winced at the sharp answer and tentatively moved away from the other man. His eyes opened in astonishment when the unmistakable motions of a waterbed resulted. "You live in a waterbed?" His eyes finally focused and then, opened even wider. "With a mirrored canopy?"

"Shut the fuck up, Krycek," Mulder warned, "or I'll have to kill you and I really don't have the energy for that just now."

Yes, well. Alex considered the alternatives. He could get up... leave. No, this fucking hangover would probably kill him before he could get out the front door. Maybe he could get up and move into the living room. Remembered the severe discomfort Mulder's couch had caused his back the one time he'd slept on it and discounted that idea as well. Possibly, he could whack Mulder upside the head rendering him unconscious... giving himself time to get a little more sleep.

Finally, deciding that simply doing as Mulder requested might be the easiest and most painless thing to do, Krycek shut up. He lay quietly, enjoying the gentle motion of the bed.

Had almost convinced himself that this whole incident was nothing more than a vodka-induced nightmare, when Mulder spoke. "Krycek?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"Why do I keep thinking that I have get up?"

Searching his memory, Alex found that not only did he have no answer for Mulder, he had absolutely no recollection of the night before. None. At. All. "Dunno," he answered shortly.

This was a very bad thing. Assassins and spies and general all-purpose henchmen such as he should never lose control. Maybe... "Mulder?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Mulder sighed and was silent.

Alex couldn't ever remember Mulder being quite so... well, quiet. Usually the damned man went on and on... and then on some more. He thought he might possibly learn to like this version of Mulder.

The brief conversation ended by mutual and silent consent. Both men had reached the limit of their respective strength. Krycek drifted drowsily, content for the moment to let things rest.

His life was so seldom restful. This was kind of... nice.

****

Pounding. Somewhere nearby, someone was pounding insistently.

Mulder shifted restlessly, trying to escape the intrusive noise by burying his head under the comforter.

Ah. Blessed silence.

"Mulder?"

He jerked completely awake at the sound of Skinner's voice. Sat up in the bed with a pained groan and smacked Krycek's closest shoulder. "Get up! Krycek, get up... You've got to hide."

"Mmmpmf."

Obviously, the man was not at his best when hung over.

"Agent Mulder?" Heavy male footsteps could be heard... And, they were headed this way.

Panicked at the thought of Skinner finding out about his current bed partner's identity, Mulder rudely pulled Krycek's pillow out from under his head and covered his face with it.

"Wha... Hey!"

"Shut up, idiot," Mulder hissed, shoving the comforter over to hide the body beside him. "Skinner's here."

"Fuck." The expression was heartfelt if a little muffled.

"Shhh." Mulder watched in dread as the door opened. Skinner stopped just inside of the room and fixed Mulder with his Why-Are-You-Keeping-Me-Waiting-You-Asshole expression.

"Good morning, sir," he offered tentatively, having no idea why his boss was in his apartment on a Sunday morning.

Folding his arms across his massive chest, Skinner glared at Mulder.

What the hell? Mulder frantically searched his admittedly sketchy memories of the past couple of days but could not think of any possible reason for AD Skinner to be in his bedroom glaring at him furiously. He looked at Skinner closely, hoping he'd find a clue. The older man was dressed casually... jeans, t-shirt, running shoes. Definitely not dressed for work. That was good. He hoped.

The mattress rolled gently as Krycek moved beside him. A quick glance down revealed that he'd lifted the pillow and comforter off of his face. He casually leaned on his right hand, pressing the bedclothes firmly down again and looked back at Skinner.

Who was studying the lump beside him suspiciously.

Shit.

"Um ...what can I do for you this morning, sir?" Distraction was the key. Carefully, Mulder moved to the bedside and prepared to roll out of the bed.

"Mulder."

Damn, he hated that forbidding tone Skinner used on him with all together too much effect. "Yes, sir?"

"Have you decided to kill him after all?" A hint of a smile touched the corner of Skinner's mouth. "Suffocation is so... tedious, don't you think?"

The pillow and comforter went flying as Krycek sat up, staring at Skinner in disbelief. "You knew?" He turned on Mulder accusingly. "How the fuck did he know I was here?"

"How would I know, asshole?"

The big man appeared to be enjoying the situation entirely too much. Mulder frowned in response to the grin that was slowly spreading across Skinner's face.

Mulder looked at Krycek. His face showed a blank confusion that perfectly matched Mulder's current mindset. "Ah, sir... would you mind letting us in on the joke?"

Leaning elegantly against the wall, Skinner studied the two men. He grinned again. An alarmingly evil kind of grin that made Mulder inwardly swear to himself that he'd never touch liquor again. "I think you two need coffee." He straightened and headed out of the bedroom. "You boys make yourselves presentable and I'll go start a pot brewing."

        Mulder sat staring in blank horror at the empty doorway.

"Fuck me!" Krycek muttered as he rolled out of the bed with surprising grace. The loss of an arm had not affected the man's innate elegance of movement at all. At least not that Mulder could detect. He admired Krycek's naked body even as he wondered...

"What the hell did we do last night, Krycek?"

"I don't know, fuckhead. I thought we'd already established that." Krycek looked around the room with a frown. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

"Dunno." The sweatshirt Mulder was pulling over his head muffled the reply. "Living room, maybe?"

"Mulder, I am not gonna walk out there naked." He walked over to the dresser and started opening drawers randomly. "You'll just have to lend me something for now." He pulled out a pair of sweats with a triumphant air and pulled them on. "Shirt?" He asked, looking at Mulder.

Mulder grabbed a white sweatshirt out of the closet and threw it at Alex. "Here."

Krycek looked around the room again with a concerned expression. "Mulder... My arm?"

A shrug. "Probably with your clothes."

"If you've lost my arm, you asshole, I'm gonna have to kill you, you know."

Skinner stood at the door, listening with a broad grin. "It's out here, Krycek. In the kitchen."

Spinning to face the door with twin expressions of guilt and dismay, the two younger men unconsciously moved closer together. //Safety in numbers, eh boys?// Skinner gleefully thought. "C'mon... Coffee... Aspirin... Zantac," he encouraged as he turned back toward the kitchen.

"You know," Krycek said as he watched the empty doorway suspiciously, "he's really frightening when he smiles. Does he do it often?"

"No, thank god," Mulder mumbled as he headed out of the bedroom. "Come on, Krycek, I'm not going out there alone," he said impatiently as Krycek showed no sign of movement.

With a put upon sigh, Krycek followed him out to the kitchen. "Do you remember anything yet?" He whispered to Mulder as they crossed the living room.

Mulder shook his head. "You?"

"Nada," Krycek answered hopelessly. "I have a really bad feeling about this, Mulder."

"What's that, Krycek?" Skinner asked jovially as they entered the kitchen.

A matched set of pained winces made Skinner's grin widen.

"Do you *have* to keep smiling like that, Skinner?" Krycek asked sullenly.

Skinner shrugged and smiled some more. "Here you go, Alex," he said, offering Krycek's prosthetic arm to him.

Mulder grabbed the arm when Krycek made no move to accept it.

"Mulder," Krycek mumbled in a disbelieving tone, "did he just call me Alex?"

"Well, of course I did. It's your name, isn't it?" Skinner turned away to pour them each a cup of coffee. "So, what's your poison, boys? Aspirin? Zantac?" Skinner held up a bottle of each shaking them so that the pills rattled loudly.

"Arsenic?" Krycek sounded hopeful.

Skinner laughed.

"Ohhhh." Both younger men held their pained heads.

Skinner grinned and handed them their coffees.

"Here you go, you look like you each need both." Skinner held out two aspirin and a Zantac to each of them.

Krycek just glared. His only hand was already holding a cup of coffee, which he was seriously considering throwing in Skinner's face.

Mulder, having had the same impulse himself on more than one occasion, recognized the danger in the situation and grabbed Krycek by the arm, guiding him back out to the living room. There they both collapsed on the couch.

Skinner followed them in and, sitting between them, stretched his arms along the back of the couch. "So, tell me... how was the rest of your evening?"

"The rest?" Mulder asked tentatively.

Krycek groaned. "I told you, Mulder."

"Told me what?"

"That I had a bad feeling about this."

Skinner let his arms drape around their shoulders. "Come on, boys," he gave each a shake. "After all, it was your idea for me to come over this morning."

"Oh fuck." Mulder suddenly shared Krycek's bad feeling. He swallowed heavily. "What did we do?"

"Why," Skinner said, arms tightened around them, "you called me and asked me to stop by."

"When did we do that, sir."

"Oh, Agent Mulder... Fox, let's don't stand on ceremony. After all, we're so close. All of my friends call me Walt."

"Oh man," Krycek moaned. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Nonsense, Alex. What you need is some exercise... best thing for a hangover is to sweat it out."

"Um," Mulder licked his lips nervously, "exactly what kind of exercise did you have in mind, si - uh... Walt?"

Skinner shook his head. "Not my idea... yours."

"Mine?" Mulder squeaked.

"Well, to be quite honest, it sounded like a joint effort."

"Oh fuck," Krycek cursed in a low voice. "Cut the shit and just tell us already, Skinner."

"Ah-ah, Alex," Skinner scolded, "just last night it was Walt this and Walt that."

"No!" Krycek sat up straight and stared at Skinner in amazement.

"Oh, but yes." Skinner nodded gravely. "you both were quite... entertaining. Particularly, when one considers that you called me at 2:56am."

"Oooh," Mulder moaned raising both hands to cover his eyes. "We're dead men, Krycek."

"Jesus christ, Mulder... are you just now figuring that one out?"

"What's wrong, boys? You two were best friends last night. Alex and Fox. Fox and Alex. And Walt. Don't forget the Walt part of the conversation."

"We wouldn't dream of it, *Walt*." Krycek growled.

"Now, now, Alex, let's not get testy."

"Please, sir," Mulder begged, "just shoot us now. Why prolong the agony?"

Skinner grinned at each in turn. "I have something here that I think you'll both enjoy." He reached into his pocket and extracted an audiotape. The little kind... the kind people use in their answering machines. "Here, Fox, put this on, would you?"

"I'll do it!" Krycek made a quick grab for the tape, but Skinner held it out of his reach with one hand while clamping the other firmly around his neck to hold him in place.

"Sorry, Alex. Its not that I don't trust you... It's just that... I don't trust you."

"You," Skinner said, turning to Mulder and handing him the tape, "have to come to work tomorrow, so I trust you a little more."

Mulder took the tape and crossed to the machine. He turned and looked back at Skinner measuringly.

Krycek narrowed his eyes. "Don't you even think about it Mulder. If you run out and leave me alone with him I'll..." Apparently, Krycek couldn't think of a threat dastardly enough for the occasion.

"Don't worry, Alex. He's not going anywhere." Skinner turned a LOOK on Mulder. "Are you, Fox?"

Knowing when he was beaten, Mulder just shrugged, stuck the tape in the answering machine and returned to the sofa. Before he could sit, however, the tape started playing. What he heard made him stand up straight, stiff with shock.

"Ooooh Waal-terrrr," came the unmistakable sound of Mulder's voice in a fascinating monotonic singsong.

Then, Krycek spoke up, "We knooooow you're home, Waaal-terrr."

And, apparently this had been so amusing that both of them had then spent several moments giggling and snorting and wheezing.

The next sounds were truly frightening... "Puuuleeeeze pick up the phone, Waaaalt."

That was, apparently, the joint effort part of the call.

Mulder sank down to sit on the edge of the sofa. Skinner reached out and wrapped him in one big arm and pulled him in close.

A faint moan came from Krycek when the next voice heard was one Walter Skinner... *very* angry AD. "What the *fuck* is going on, Mulder?"

Mulder had thought this quite funny and had gone off into paroxysms of hysterical laughter.

"Gimme the phone, Fox."

Oh fuck. Krycek sank down on the sofa.

"Oh, Waalterr, Alex here. Fox and I would like to issue an invitation."

"Alex? Alex... Krycek?" Skinner's tone was clearly stunned.

'Well, of course. I told you that already." Krycek sounded almost hurt. "This is *Alex*."

"What the hell is going on? Where's Agent Mulder? What have you done to him, Krycek?"

*Crash* "Fox. Hey, Fox." *Boom* "Hey, Fox, Walt wants to talk to you." *Crash*

"Walt, Alex here again. I'm afraid Fox can't get to the phone right now. He fell down." Krycek reported in a serious tone.

"He *what*?" Skinner had clearly been unable to decide if the situation called for incredulity, suspicion or horror and managed a credible combination of all three. "What is going on, Krycek? Where are you two?"

"We're at Fox's, of course. Can't go to my place," Alex lowered his tone to speak confidentially. "I'm a spy, you know."

This time it was Krycek who fell down laughing. This was incontrovertible, as Krycek immediately reported the incident. "Sorry Walt... I fell. But I'm okay."

"I can't tell you how much better I feel now that you've told me that, Krycek."

"Waalt, why do you keep calling me that? I keep telling you, this is *Alex*."

It was at this point in the conversation that Skinner, apparently, caught on to the situation. "Riiight, Alex. Let me talk to Fox now, would you please?"

"Um sure, Walt... but, can I ask you something first, please?"

"Of course you can, Alex."

"Well, you see... this is a little embarrassing -" *Fumble... Crash* "Sorry, Walt, dropped the phone. But, it's okay. Anyway... the thing is... I've lost my arm."

Skinner had apparently choked at this point.

"Ooh Fuck!" Krycek sank even lower on the couch.

Skinner smiled. "Just wait, boys. We haven't even gotten to the good parts yet."

Mulder moaned as he slumped to a posture, which mirrored that of Krycek.

"So, anyway, do you think you could come over and help us to find it?"

"You called me to ask if I would come to Mulder's apartment and help you, Alex Krycek, to find your arm?"

"Well, of course. Fox said that if anyone could find it, you could."

"Oh he did? May I speak with Fox now?"

"Well, I think he might be asleep now. He does that when he's drunk, you know." Alex confided.

"Does he?" Skinner asked in a surprisingly mild tone. "No, Alex, I was not aware of that. Go over there and WAKE HIM UP."

*Crash*

"Sorry, Walt... I - "

"Dropped the phone... I know."

Both Mulder and Krycek tried to slide even further down, but Skinner was having none of that. "Sit up, boys. The really interesting part is coming up right now..." He grabbed each by the scruff of his neck and pulled them both to upright positions.

"Alex... Alex, *I* wanna talk to Walter now."

"Oh... Fox just woke up Walt... Would you like to speak with him?"

"Yes, Alex. I would like that very much."

"All right, then. Are you gonna come over an' help me?"

"Yes, Alex. Of course I will. But first, I need to talk to Fox for just a minute... Okay?"

"Ooooh." This request was apparently a revelation to Alex. "Hey, Fox... Walt wants to talk to you. An, he says he'll come over an' help find my arm!"

"I told you he would." Mulder sounded amazed that Krycek had ever doubted his word. "Lemme talk to him for a minute."

"Oh, Walt, Fox would like to speak with you... Is that okay?"

"Yes, Alex, that will be just fine."

"Well... all right then. When will you be here?"

"Aaaleexxx. I *said* I wanna talk now."

*Fumble*... *Crash*... *Bang*... *Scuffle*

"Helllooo, is this Walt?"

"Yes indeed, Fox, this is Walt."

Mulder winced and tried to return to his slumped posture. One firm squeeze from Skinner's hand, which was still on the back of his neck, stopped the effort with no effort at all.

"Lissen, Walt... the thing is that my pal Alex lost his... um..."

"His arm, Agent Mulder. Krycek has lost his fucking arm."

"Well yeah, I know that, Walt. Happened in Russia, you know."

A heavy sigh could be clearly heard... Mulder and Krycek both felt pretty safe in assuming that the sound had issued from Skinner... Walt.

"Yes, Mulder-"

"Fox. F-O-X. 'S my name, you know."

"Fox... I'll be right there."

"Hey Alex. Walt is comin' over."

"He is?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Just a minnit an' I'll ask him."

"Why are you comin' over, Walt?"

"To find Alex's arm, Fox."

"I just told you... it's in Russia."

*Fumble*

"Hey, Alex, Walt thinks he knows where we can find your arm."

"Did you tell him that I lost my arm?"

"Nope. I wouldn't do that, Alex. You said it was a secret."

"Hello, Walt?"

"Yes, Fox?"

"Um... it's a secret... that arm thing? Shhh. 'S a secret."

"Ah. Of course. Well then, Fox. Why did you call me tonight?"

"Ooooh, that. Well, you see... the thing is... My buddy Alex an' me ... We were talkin' earlier ... an' we wanted to ask you a question. Would that be okay?"

"Sure, Fox. Ask away."

"Well, we were just wonderin'... "

*Fumble*... *Crash*

"Hey, Alex... what did we wanna ask Walt again?"

"About sex."

"Oh yeah... hey Walt?"

"Yes?" Skinner was starting to sound a little bit tense again.

"Um... have you ever... um... had sex?"

"What?" Bemusement warred with amusement for dominance. Amusement won the day. "Yes," chuckle, "I have on one or two occasions had sex, Fox."

"You have?" Mulder was clearly quite amazed by this. "Really?"

"Yes, Fox. Really."

"Hey Alex... he said yes."

"He did?"

"Here -"

*Fumble*

"Hellooo, Walt?"

"Yes, Alex?"

"Did you really say yes?"

"Yes, I did, Alex."

"Wow! So, when will you be here?"

"What?"

"When will you be here?"

"But, I thought that you *didn't* want me to come over."

"Well, really," *Giggle* "How can we have sex if you're not here?"

*Fumble*

"Hellooo?"

"Yes, Alex?"

"Did you drop the phone, Walt?"

"Yes, Alex, I did."

"Oh. Well ... is it okay?"

"Is what okay?"

*Giggle* "The phone, of course."

"Yes, Alex, the phone is fine."

"Oh. Well that's alright, then."

"So, tell me, Alex... exactly why is it that you and Fox need me there to have sex?"

"What?"

"I said... never mind. Why did you two call me?"

"So we could have sex."

"Ummhmm. And you need me there because..."

"So we can have sex with you. Aren't you paying *any* attention to us, Walt?"

"Trust me, Alex, you have my undivided attention right now."

"Oh. Good. So, when will you be here?"

"I'm on my way."

*Click*... *Dialtone*

As silence once more fell in number forty-two, Mulder studied the coffee table as if he'd never seen such a thing while Krycek just closed his eyes.

"So, tell me, boys," Skinner sounded positively jovial, "how ever did you two come to the decision to call me and invite me over here to have sex with you?"

"We don't know, sir."

"Oh now, I thought we were all such good friends here, Fox. Please, call me Walt when you explain this to me. I would *really* take it amiss if you were to stand on formality at such a time as this."

Silence

"I see. Well, in that case... Let me tell you what happened when I arrived here, at 4:15 am."

"Oh my fucking god." Krycek eyes were glazed with horror. "You *didn't*."

"Alex, Alex, Alex..." Skinner sighed and shook his head mournfully. "How could you doubt me? I am hurt."

"Oh, fuck you, Skinner."

"Well, no. Actually it more along the lines of 'fuck *me*, Walt'" Skinner frowned. "No, wait. I remember now, it was '*please* fuck me, Walt'"

Mulder snickered.

"Oh, Fox, I don't think you should be laughing... You were the one who decided that tackling me would be the best way to get my clothes off."

This time it was Krycek who snickered.

"Jesus, fuck," Mulder moaned. "My god, Krycek, we are so fucking dead it isn't even remotely fucking funny."

Skinner sat in silence and just waited. One of them should crack any second now.

3... 2... 1... ah... liftoff. Skinner grinned.

"Ah, you didn't... um..."

Skinner turned to meet Mulder's miserable stare with an expression of mild inquiry.

"Oh hell," Krycek fumed. "Just tell us. Or kill us. Do *something* for fuckssake."

The same expression was turned on Krycek.

"He's gonna kill us." Mulder moaned.

Krycek, who was staring directly into Skinner's eyes, suddenly caught his breath at what he was seeing. "We couldn't have." He sputtered, after a moment. "We were too drunk. It's not poss... ib ...le. Is it?"

"What?" Mulder sat up in sudden interest. "What, Krycek? What is it?"

"Look at him." Krycek told Mulder. "Get over here and *look* at him."

As it turned out, that did not prove to be necessary. Skinner sat back on the sofa, arms once again stretched out along the back, and smiled, as both *Fox* and *Alex* turned to stare at him in stunned disbelief. Ever so slowly, their heads swiveled and they traded a befuddled look.

Mulder shook his head. "It's not possible. I don't bel-"

Skinner raised his brows. "But Fox, I thought you *wanted* to believe."

Mulder's mouth dropped open and he tried to back away. He landed on his ass in front of the couch and scooted away with admirable alacrity.

Krycek gave the situation serious thought and decided to stay where he was and see what happened. He turned a little further so he could look at Skinner more closely. When Skinner reached up to remove his glasses, Krycek's eyes widened. He wasn't aware that his hand was moving until he saw it out of the corner of his eye. Quickly closing it into a fist, Krycek tried to pull his handback, but Skinner grabbed it in one of his own and raised it to his face. Carefully, he opened the fingers, bringing them to rest on his cheek. Alex's mouth opened just enough to allow his tongue to reach out and wet his suddenly parched lips.

"Alex?" Mulder whispered.

Skinner held out his other hand. "Get over here, Fox."

Mulder got back to the couch even faster than he'd retreated from it only seconds earlier. He knelt between Skinner's feet and rested his hands on those hard thighs he'd been secretly staring at for the past eighty-nine years. Or, was that a hundred and eighty-nine years? Mulder couldn't remember... he just knew that he'd been drooling over this man's body for an eternity.

Skinner met Mulder's fascinated stare for a beat, then turned back to Alex. He raised one hand to rest gently on the back on Alex's neck and pulled him forward into a kiss.

Mulder hissed his surprise and moved a little closer, letting his hands skim lightly up the outside of Skinner's thighs. He watched, in fascination and growing arousal, as Skinner and Krycek's kiss became increasingly erotic. Their mouths were open wide to each other and Mulder could see the hollowing of Alex's cheeks as he sucked on Skinner's tongue. Mulder moaned and moved even closer, as one of his hands came to rest at the juncture of the big man's hip and thigh. Without opening his eyes or breaking his kiss with Alex, Skinner reached down, picked up Mulder's hand and laid it right on top of his rather impressive erection. Then his hand moved up Mulder's arm and came to rest on one shoulder, pulling Mulder forward until, the younger man's face was pressed into his crotch. Mulder inhaled deeply and moaned.

The sound broke Krycek's concentration and he pulled back, to stare in amazement as Mulder opened his mouth over Skinner's erection and started to suck at the cloth dampening it noticeably.

Krycek moaned this time.

Skinner smiled and stirred. "Shall we take this party into the bedroom, boys?"

"Sure." Mulder agreed, lifting his head.

Krycek was already on his feet, waiting impatiently. He reached down to pull Mulder to his feet and they each offered Skinner a hand and hauled the larger man up to stand between them. The three entered the bedroom, where Krycek paused, suddenly uncertain.

"Um, guys?"

Mulder turned to look at him. "What's wrong, Alex?"

"I... I don't... I mean..." Helplessly he shrugged, at a loss. "I haven't done this before... I mean... not with two... and I..."

Skinner put an arm around him. "Don't worry about it, Alex." He grinned. "Neither have I."

"What?" They spoke at the same time. "But... you... he..."

Skinner shook his head at them. "You mean last night? You were too drunk. I got here, put you to bed, and had to promise I'd be back this morning before you would let me go, Alex. You," he looked at Mulder, "passed out right after you tackled me."

"But, you said-" Mulder started to say when Krycek started laughing.

"Think about it, Fox. He never actually *said* one way or the other. He let us draw our own conclusions."

Skinner chuckled. "You two are too gullible for your own goods."

"Gullible?" They were speaking in concert again. "Gullible?"

"Yes, gullible. Both of you." Skinner was smiling widely in open amusement. He pulled off his clothing as they watched in awe, and then climbed into the bed. "Now, are you coming to bed or not?"

They might be gullible, but neither was stupid.

They joined Skinner on the bed only seconds later.

 

* * *

 

Title: Where Are My Angels  
Author: Jennie  
Series: Morning Variations #2  
Feedback: Yes, please, to:<>  
Webpage: http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other  
Pairing: Sk/K  
Rating: NC-17  
Archive: Yes to RatB and WWOMB  
Disclaimers: Not mine ... No money made  
Spoilers: Yeah - for Requiem in a general kind of way  
Summary: Krycek comes to visit Skinner after the events in Requiem  
Notes: This is a sequel, after a fashion, to The Morning After the Night Before, which can be found at the RatB text archive. Thanks to Teri W and Emily T for the kickass beta.

* * *

Where Are My Angels  
Morning Variations 2  
By Jennie

In the end, it came down to just him and me. I should've known it would come to that. But, you know how it is; you just never think it'll ever really end.

Anyway, when I went to his place that night I was angry disappointed, and, most of all, I was hurting. I needed someone to blame and he was a convenient target. He'd let me down. Never mind that he was dealing with his own feelings of guilt and loss. Pain and betrayal consumed me. Most of all, there was this great, overwhelming fear.

When the door swung open one look at his expression told me that he'd been expecting me. That he'd been waiting for me. And, that he blamed himself far more than I could ever blame him.

"Krycek," he said in a curiously resigned tone, "come on in."

"You lost him," I accused. "How could you do that, Skinner? I depended on you. I trusted you!"

"I tried to find him, but, he was just ... gone, Krycek." His hands clenched into helpless fists. "He was just gone."

I could see the pain in his eyes. The redness told me how very much the loss of Mulder had hurt him ... was still hurting him. My anger faded in the face of his obvious suffering.

I wandered in and dropped to sit on the couch. I sighed and looked up at him. "What are we gonna do now?"

Skinner shrugged. "Look for him. Find him."

I stared at him with a frown as I tried to decipher that tone. What an interesting combination of utter loss and absolute belief. I'd never heard anything quite like it.

I smiled bitterly. "Are we fools, Skinner? To believe in him ... that we'll ever see him again?"

He looked surprised that I could possibly doubt that we'd see Mulder again. How could he believe so completely? I don't think I've ever had such faith in anything or anyone.

Not even in Mulder.

"I will find him, Krycek." He stared at me fiercely. "I will."

I nodded. What else could I do? I mean, who the hell was I to question his belief ... his trust in Mulder's seemingly endless ability to rise above the roadblocks of life? I mean, the man had survived so much already ... come back from endless disappointments, disillusionments and losses. No small amount of which was caused by yours truly.

I sighed and sat back on the couch. "So, where do we start?" I asked simply. "Any ideas?"

"With a drink." He crossed to the kitchen and called out, "Vodka?"

I cleared my throat, "Yeah, that'll do me."

When, I wondered, had it happened? When had I become his ally? And, how had he known? Because, he certainly had no doubts. None whatsoever. I watched him as he came back into the room and sat on the other end of the sofa and handed me a rocks glass half-filled with chilled vodka. I nodded my thanks and took a sip.

"So," I said, "it's been a while, huh?"

He raised his brows at me. "Has it?"

I rolled my eyes. "I meant since we spent any time ... that wasn't ... Oh hell, you must know what I mean. Time not spent at each other's throats."

He considered this in silence for a beat then nodded. "Yeah, I guess it has."

We sat in silence for quite some time, each studying our memories. He rose to refill our drinks twice. The third time, he just brought the bottles back with him and set them on the coffee table. He picked up the TV remote and turned the tube on. After several false starts, he settled on "Blade Runner." We watched in comfortable silence, steadily drinking our way through a large portion of our respective bottles.

When the movie ended, I frowned and turned to him. "When was that made, anyway?"

He thought for a moment then shrugged and picked up the TV guide. "1982," he finally said.

"No!" I stared at him with shock. "That's not possible. Lemme see that." He handed it over without protest and I read the listing. "Damn. How can this be? I remember going to see that when it premiered. I was a sophomore in college that year." I shook my head. "I'm getting old, Skinner."

He snorted. "Join the club, Krycek. Join the fucking club."

He leaned forward to pour himself another drink and then settled into a comfortable sprawl at his end of the couch. I studied him for a moment, then refilled my vodka. I leaned back, then sat up again rather abruptly.

"Shit!" I pulled on my prosthesis, trying to resettle it. "Dammit, I hate this fucking thing." I mumbled.

"What's wrong?" He asked mildly.

I glared at him. Knowing it was not his fault didn't seem important at the time. I just needed someone to blame. For everything. For every god damned thing in my entire sorry-ass life. I shifted again, once more trying to pull that damned arm back into place so it would stop biting the living shit out of my stump.

"Damn, damn, damn," I bitched. "I've had the thing on for too long, I guess." I looked up at him. "Um, d'you mind if I ..." I waved towards it with my good hand.

He shrugged. "I don't care, Alex. Seen it, remember?"

Well, that took the wind right out of my sails. I'd come over here tonight, so filled with anger that I'd been just about ready to explode. The man lets me in, takes my abuse with no complaint, offers me hope, where I'd had none at all, lets me sit here drinking peacefully with him ... And now, now he brings up one of the two maybe three good memories of my life. Damn. I sagged back against the couch, ignoring my arm, and stared at the far wall. It hurt. Probably more than anything ever had, it hurt to remember.

"Skinner," I finally whispered, "we lost him. We fucking lost him."

One of his warm hands came to rest on the back of my neck. "We'll find him, Alex. You'll see, we're gonna find him." He scooted closer and reached for the buttons of my shirt.

I caught my breath. "What are you doing?"

"Gotta take your shirt off before we can get the arm off." He grinned at me, "And, Alex, I promise ... we won't lose the damned thing."

I laughed and relaxed. "Damn ... Y'know, I never *did* remember anything about that night ... always remembered the morning after, but never the night before."

"Hmmm," he ruminated as he figured out how to remove the prosthesis, "Well, I remember the night pretty clearly. Thought I'd die when the two of you called; 'Have you ever had sex', indeed."

We laughed. It had been pretty damn funny. In fact, it was fucking hilarious now that I could look back on it. At the time though...

"You bastard," I said with no heat in my voice. "You really made us suffer the next day."

He shrugged. "You deserved it. The both of you. Besides, I made it up to you, didn't I?"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. I sat quietly and let him finish his self appointed task.

He finally got my arm off and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Skinner." I reached up to rub at the sore stump, but his hand was there first. And it was so fucking warm, so soothing, that I moaned and closed my eyes enjoying the simple pleasure of being touched with comfort.

"Walt," he said.

I opened my eyes again. "Huh?" I asked none too brightly.

"My name ... remember? W - A - L - T. Walt."

I smiled. "Not likely to *ever* forget that one, Waaalt."

And he smiled at me. Damn. I hadn't seen him smile since that morning ... Hell, I wasn't sure if I had even smiled one single time since that morning. He released what was let of my arm and met my fascinated stare.

"What?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Nothing really. Just thinking that ... never mind." I dropped my stare to study the almost empty vodka bottle.

"Alex," he tilted my chin up with two fingers, looking at me searchingly, "tell me."

"Well, you smiled, and I was smiling too. And, it occurred to me that the last time I smiled was that morning ... that day. Y'know?"

He nodded his understanding. "Neither of us has had much cause to smile the past few years."

I grunted and leaned forward to top off my drink. I looked at him over my shoulder; "You ready?"

"Sure." He handed me his glass.

I poured him a healthy draught of Scotch and sat back. We were shoulder to shoulder now, since he'd stayed at my end of the sofa after removing my prosthesis. I found myself slowly leaning into him, attracted to his warmth and solidity. He pulled his arm out from between our bodies, and put it around me, tucking me neatly against him. I sighed and put my hand on his knee, unconsciously rubbing in a soothing manner.

He stretched out his legs and pulled me closer yet, until my head came to rest on his shoulder. My hand continued its movements, slowly traveling up his thigh, stopping along the way to test his strength. I was enjoying the unfamiliar feel of a masculine leg other than my own under my hand. It was nice, this quiet sharing. I'd not much experience of it in my life, but I really liked it. Needed it. That night I did, anyway.

He reached out and picked up my hand in his, staring at it for several long moments. Finally, he lifted it to his face and placed my fingers on his cheek.

I caught my breath. "Walt?" I whispered. I sat up and turned to see his face. He just sat there watching me; waiting for me to make the next move, I guessed. I reached up and removed his glasses.

He smiled at me again. Oh my god. He was smiling at me again. I trembled at the implications. It had been so long ... so very, very long.

Carefully, slowly, I leaned forward. The arm he'd had around my shoulders closed, pulling me to him as his other hand came up to cradle the side of my face. I closed my eyes and let him guide me to him. His lips were as warm and mobile as I remembered. Such a big man ... so very hard ... and, he was willing to let me feel his vulnerability. I parted my lips and let my tongue taste the whisky on him.

"Mmm," I hummed, leaning closer and opening my mouth a bit more. He let me in, and oh, he tasted so wonderful. Better even than I recalled him tasting. I moaned and leaned against him, letting him support my weight as I explored the wonder of this unexpected treat. That morning with him and Mulder ... Fox, had been one of the most erotic, touching, and open encounters of my life. I'd brought that treasured memory out every so often over the years, dusted it off and just wallowed in the pleasure of that time. It had been everything to me for so long that I was almost afraid that by accepting what he now offered me I might somehow offend the gods. That a person such as I should consider himself damn lucky to have even one such experience in his life and should therefore not tempt their anger by accepting another. I moaned and drew back.

"Shhh, Alex," he soothed, "it's okay."

"I'm afraid," I was surprised to hear myself whisper.

His hand soothed over my hair. "I know you are," he rumbled. "I am too. Let's share our fear for the night." He shrugged and grinned slightly. "Who knows? Maybe it'll help."

I searched his eyes and found only safety and warmth and, lurking in the shadows, a vague heat. "Okay," I nodded to him. "Okay."

He gave me a truly wicked smile as his hand dropped slowly from my hair and traveled south. It came to rest on my right nipple. And, there it was; the heat was no longer banked, flames leapt unhidden adding depth to his sherry brown eyes. I'd dreamt of those flames many times over the past four years.

One twist of those clever fingertips on my nipple, and I was in his lap, straddling him, while my hand on his nape begged him ... pleaded with him ...

Oh, and his answer was yes! I arched as his mouth found my nipple, depending on his hands at my back to support me.

"Oh, god," I gasped. "Please, oh please. Yesss." I finally hissed when his teeth gently worried the hardened nub he'd brought forth. It felt so damn good, so fucking perfect that I was close to tears.

Now, I admit that my nipples have always been an erogenous zone. Hell, I love to have them attended to. But, I am not usually brought to tears by the experience. The thing was, he'd remembered. After only one time - which, granted, was a pretty spectacular encounter - he'd fucking remembered! No one had ever done that, cared enough, hell, been around long enough to learn my preferences.

Except Mulder ... he'd known.

And, now, Skinner had remembered.

I remembered things too. The feel of his skin. His taste. The way he rumbled deep in his chest when caressed. Oh yeah, I remembered! Opening my eyes to slits, I looked at him and realized that he was still completely dressed. Words were pretty much beyond me at that point, so I plucked impatiently at the neck of his t-shirt.

"What?" He looked up at me frowning his confusion.

"Want to touch you, too. Need to feel you," I managed to say.

He smiled again. I filed it away with all the other smiles he'd given me this night and smiled back at him.

"Shall we take this party into the bedroom?" I asked, echoing his own question to Mulder and me on that memorable morning so long ago.

        "An excellent idea, Alex. But ... you're gonna have to get off of me first."

I pouted, but did as he asked and headed up to the bedroom. He was no more than a step behind me, his warmth a tangible presence at my back. I think that that heat, more than anything else about him, is what I remember most often. The thing I hold to myself late at night when those nightmares come calling.

Once I actually walked into his room, I was overcome by doubts and hesitation. I slowed and stopped before I reached the bed. He seemed to recognize my problem, because he didn't pressure or push. He simply sat on the bed and proceeded to undress. I watched him closely, but still felt unaccountably shy. I mean, I knew I was being ridiculous ... My shirt was already off, so it wasn't the arm. It was the fact, I think, that he *knew* me in a way that no one else ever had ... Except for Mulder, of course. And, we'd had Mulder with us last time. Somehow, that had made it easier. This time, his attention would all be directed at me. He's not an easy man, and I just suddenly felt a little overwhelmed.

Finally, after I'd spent several minutes just staring at him in silence, he lay back on the bed and held one hand out to me. "Alex, c'mere." He said in a low husky tone that vibrated in the pit of my stomach.

I walked over and sat next to him, staring at his face. How could he be so damn calm? I couldn't understand it. I was glad one of us was, though.

He took my hand and placed it in the center of his chest. "Touch me." He said, and gave me a look that was positively inflammatory.

Well, that certainly helped get me back on track. I moaned and carefully let my hand wander across his chest, loving the silky feel of the scattering of hair. I followed the line of that hair down to his abdomen then detoured around his erection to his hip and upper thigh. What the hell is it about that man's legs, anyway? Long and leanly muscled, they're the sexiest damn things I've ever seen.

I sighed and let my hand move back up to his chest. I teased his nipples, pleased with myself when he shifted up towards my touch and his breathing quickened.

"Think you're ready to undress now?" He asked in that wonderful husky voice I recalled so clearly.

The heat in his expression had me up on my feet and out of the rest of my clothing in short order. I climbed in next to him and lay back. And, wonder of wonders, he remembered this too ... I don't like to be on top anymore. I'm off balance and can't touch if I'm using my only arm to support myself. But, he knew ... understood that about me. As I lay back, he propped himself up on one elbow and started to caress my chest again. I reached up and pulled him down into a kiss that was ... lord have mercy, it was fucking unbelievable. What that man can do with his lips and tongue is absolutely indescribable. He had me a panting, moaning, writhing, but ecstatically happy wreck almost immediately.

His weight settled more completely over me and I felt safe for the first time in forever. It was an almost forgotten feeling for me, safety. I think, no, I know that the last time I'd felt this way was the last time I'd been in bed with him. Oh, Mulder and I had gotten together a couple of times in the intervening years but ... wonderful as Mulder was, he couldn't make me feel this. Only Skinner seemed to hold that ability.

I moaned and pulled him down, shifting to place myself closer to him. He lay across me, one hand petting me. He traced a line down to my cock and I'd have probably been hanging from the ceiling if his wonderful weight hadn't been anchoring me down to the bed.

"Oh fuck," I gasped. "Damn, Walt. How can you do this to me? I don't ... I can't..."

"Shh," he soothed, even as his hand brought me perilously close to losing my tenuous control. "You're okay, Alex. I've got you."

And, suddenly, I understood. He needed to be needed. Had been raised to be the strong one, the protector. Being able to offer these things to me made him feel as if he some measure of control in a life that seemed completely adrift on the winds of circumstance.

With my newfound knowledge came a sudden need to give him whatever he needed. I wanted to offer him at least as much as he offered me. I let down my guard and allowed him to read my eyes, let my need and want show. Relaxing into his hold, I reached up to touch his face with trembling fingers. He leaned into my touch and smiled at me again.

Damn. Those fucking smiles of his were slowly chipping away at all of my carefully constructed defenses. But, I could see that he was truly enjoying what his touch did to me; how my decision to let him give me whatever he wanted had been recognized and was appreciated.

He leaned in closer and started mapping a path across my face with his lips. I occurred to me that, as my body was under his, the danger of my floating away was minimal. I let go my desperate grip on his nape and started to explore.

He retaliated by attacking my neck. The bastard. Aside from the obvious areas of sensitivity, my neck ... well, as a diversionary tactic, it was a complete success. I twined my arm around his shoulders and held on for dear life. Arching my neck back to give him easier access, I begged him to never stop. I began to doubt my ability to control my orgasm if he moved below my collarbone.

"Wait," I gasped. "Stop. Toosoontoosoon. I'll come ..." I was tossing my head in protest and pushing at him.

Finally, he got the message and lifted his head. "What? What's wrong, Alex?"

"Gonna come ... gonna come."

"Ah." He gave me a very serious look and I started to relax my hold. Quicker than shit, he scooted down the bed and swallowed my cock whole.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "You bastard ... shit! Oh god ... no. No, stop!" Of course, the whole time I'm yelling this litany at the top of my lungs, my hand is firmly at the back of his head urging him on in his efforts.

Luckily for me, he knew which message to pay attention to. I must have lasted a whole ten ... fifteen seconds, tops. I came shuddering and sobbing, while he swallowed every drop, not releasing me until I stirred in protest at the over-stimulation. Returning to lay beside me, he held me as I slowly regained my senses.

"You ... you bastard!" I complained. "Why'd you do that?"

He snorted. "Well, that is the object of the exercise, Alex."

"Fucker," I retorted. "You know what I mean. It was too soon!" I was feeling deeply aggrieved.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "I have faith in your ability to come at least one more time tonight."

"Weren't you listening to me earlier, Walt? I'm getting fucking old."

Nodding seriously, he appeared to agree with me. Then he grinned and I knew I was doomed. "How about this? *You* have faith in *my* ability to make you come again tonight."

Oh. Well, that was a different story. *That* I had no problem believing in. The humor in the situation finally dawned on me and I laughed.

"Sorry," I offered, a bit shame-faced.

"Well, I suppose you can make it up to me." How generous he was in victory. What a guy.

While I may prefer not to be on top, I am still capable of doing a credible simulation of it. I rose up and indicated to him that he should lay flat. He followed my silent orders without protest. I seldom tried this, but I figured he could handle the occasional clumsiness my missing limb caused.

And, damned if I wasn't right. If he even noticed, I'll be fucked if I could tell. Turning into my touch, letting me know with sighs and moans that my efforts were quite enjoyed, he was every bit as responsive as I recalled him being. And he tasted even better ... a mellow, spicy kind of taste. I loved it and lost no opportunity to lick and suck and nibble on whatever flesh I could get my mouth on. When I finally reached his cock, he was purring, a deep rumble of a sound. I'd been waiting to hear that noise.

You know, he was right. Just that sound was enough, on top of his amazing sensitivity and openness, to get me hard again. He grinned triumphantly at me when my erection brushed against his leg. I met his eyes and silently asked the question. Who would it be ... Fucker? Or, fucked? His expression sobered then and he met my gaze. When I looked down, answering my own question, he caught his breath.

"Are you sure?" He asked me.

I had not allowed this last time. It ... just wasn't the something I did easily. And, they hadn't pressured me. In fact, they'd never even asked.

I met his gaze again and nodded. "Positive."

He turned away to grab lube and a condom from the bedside table. I grinned at his preparedness and he shrugged. "I was expecting you," he offered simply.

That took my breath away. By the time I recovered, he had the condom on and was looking at me again.

"How?" he asked me.

"On my back." I'm a simple man. It was the easiest way for me to get fucked and still be able to touch him. Perfect for the occasion. I lay back and he moved close, lifting one of my legs and draping it over his hip. I was already in heaven, and he hadn't even touched me. I moaned and he covered my lips with his own. When he had me good and distracted, he reached under me and started stroking one slick finger along my crack.

Fuck. I arched, trying to force his finger into me but he kept beyond my reach. Once he had me reduced to incoherency, he finally slipped that finger inside of me.

"Oh god," I groaned. "Fuck, Skinner. Oh, man ... that's incredible."

He stopped.

"What?!" I almost screamed at him.

"Walt," he answered me quietly.

What? Whatthefuck? "Oh shit." I huffed a laugh. "Okay, Walt. Sorry, Walt. Fuck *me* Walt. *Please* fuck me, Walt."

He grinned at me as if I was the cleverest man in the world to have remembered the words he'd attributed to me that morning at Mulder's. I'd have been a little embarrassed if his own instant recognition of those words hadn't given away his own clear memories of the event. I grinned back at him and moved impatiently.

"C'mon, Walt," I begged. "I really, really do want you to fuck me."

Resuming his explorations, he inserted two fingers. Damn, it felt so good. I moved against him languidly, enjoying the lovely full feeling when he twisted his fingers and found my prostate. Fuck! There wasn't a languid cell left in my body after that, I can assure you.

"Jesus h christ," I yelled. "Damn, Walt. How the hell can you ..."

He shut me up by sticking his tongue in my mouth. Extremely effective. One of the few ways to shut me up when this particular man touched me. I am not by nature, a vocal lover. Can't afford to be. Not in my line of work. But, there was something about Skinner ... that feeling of safety I mentioned earlier, I guess, that made me yell and scream when he brought me pleasure. It was kind of scary, to tell you the truth. Nice, but scary.

He continued to work me, sliding two, then three, fingers in and out, hitting my prostate gland on every pass. I was a wreck when he finally stopped. I tried to catch my breath while he moved, settling his weight fully on top of me. He hooked my knees with his arms and raised my legs. I caught my breath in anticipation as he reached down and guided his erection to my opening.

"Ah ... mmmm," I hummed as he slowly sank into me. "God, Walt. Yeah ... hmmm." Oh, he felt so incredible. He filled me completely and waited for me to adjust to his size.

I breathed deeply then pushed up at him a bit. He eased half way out and sank back inside. I groaned and pushed up to meet him. Fuck, it was wonderful! Better than I'd hoped ... And, I'd had very high hopes. He continued to fuck me easily, and I loved it. Eventually, though I needed more. He ignored my polite hints and I grew impatient.

"Fuck me, dammit," I finally growled at him. "*Fuck* me."

The man takes direction well. I think it's a Marine thing. He did exactly what I'd told him to do. And, very well, indeed. He shifted his weight back a bit and began to fuck me in earnest. I watched him closely, thankful now that I'd already come once tonight. It gave me a measure of control I'd have otherwise lacked now, when I was so fucking determined to make him climax first. I needed to see it. To know that it was caused by me ... that I could do that to him. When his breathing quickened and his thrusts grew stronger, I started to see stars. I ruthlessly pushed my own pleasure aside and reached down to grab his ass, pulling him in as I pushed up at him.

"Fuck!" He hissed.

Ah, good move. I smiled, pleased with myself. I let my hand migrate until I was twisting and pinching one of his nipples. Mmm, he liked that too. He was gasping for air. I was feeling quite the slut, ready to pull his orgasm from by sheer dint of will.

I should have known better. I really, really should have. Sonofabitch moved his hand and started jacking me off. And, that was all she wrote. I screamed at the top of my lungs and came all over both of us.

But, in the end, I won too. My orgasmic muscle spasms sent him over the edge and he shouted, "Alex, yes!"

He collapsed onto me, breathing heavily. I'd have probably stayed like that all night, but he was thinking ahead, thank god. He pulled out of me, despite my groan of protest, and released my legs.

'Shit," I hissed as the cramped muscles made their presence known. He didn't even have to ask, he just rubbed my hips and thighs, easing the pain and sending me back into boneless satiation.

"Damn, Walt," I finally said drowsily. "That was fucking amazing."

He settled my limp body against his. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was."

"G'night." I barely had the energy to get the word out. "See you in the morning."

"Promise?" He asked.

Promise? He wanted a promise from me? That opened my eyes. I looked up at him and saw that he was serious. "I won't leave without waking you." I told him gravely.

And that seemed to do the trick. He was asleep before I could once again rest my head on him. I shrugged and followed him.

        He opened his eyes blearily. I was standing in the middle of the room looking around one last time to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

"Your arm's in the living room, Alex."

I crossed to the bed and kissed him. "Gotta go," I explained shortly. "I was gonna wake you after I got dressed."

He nodded and returned my kiss. "Okay," he murmured. "See you."

"Yeah," I whispered.

Then, I dressed and got the hell out of there. But, before leaving I stopped and left him a note:

Dear Walt, In case you haven't heard the news ... My arm's in Russia. I'll call A

Where are my angels?   
Where's my golden one?   
Where's my hope   
Now that my heroes have gone?

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Morning Variations 3: Rescue Me  
AUTHOR: Jennie  
SERIES: Morning Variations  
PAIRING: Skinner/Krycek/Mulder  
UPDATED: 1st November 2000  
E-MAIL ADDRESS:   
ARCHIVE: Yes to RatB and DitB, all others please ask first  
WEB SITE: <http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other>   
SPOILER WARNING: Oh, well early Krycek eps, I suppose  
RATING: NC-17  
CONTENT WARNING: m/m/m sex and some - well, okay, a lot of swearing. If this isn't your scene then don't bother reading on.   
COMMENTS: Any and all comments gratefully received - as long as they're constructive.  
DISCLAIMER: These boys belong to someone else. No copyright infringement intended.   
SUMMARY: Everyone gets rescued, in one way or another  
NOTES: Well, this one just kind of happened. Though it is a Morning Variations story, it is *not* a sequel - or a prequel - to either of the first two MV things. Many thanks to Dr Ruthless and Teri W for the kick-ass beta job.

This is your birthday present, Sandra. Sorry it's late... but then, have I ever finished a story on time? <g> Enjoy, my dear. Love from Jennie and Nora.

* * *

Rescue Me  
by Jennie

Screaming. Someone was screaming. I fought my way out of a deep sleep and rolled out of bed. A red glow illuminated the darkened bedroom as I crossed to the window. I looked out and ... Oh shit. 

The house across from me was on fire. I could see a woman I vaguely recognized as the homeowner running at the front door, as if she wanted to get back inside. The flames beat her back and she wailed again.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and my boots and rushed out the door, slipping a sweatshirt over my head as I moved. I crossed the street, and a woman ran to me babbling incoherently. I grabbed her and tried my best to understand what she was so desperately trying to tell me. She pointed at an upstairs window and I turned to look.

Oh, jesus. The kid was still inside. He was pounding at the window, mouth open in a silent scream. 

More neighbors swarmed out around us, and I turned to an elderly man I'd spoken with on a casual basis from time to time. "Has anyone called this in?" I asked him.

"I called the fire department a minute ago," he informed me.

"How long will it take them to get here?" 

He shrugged. "This ain't their favorite part of town, you know? Last fire it took 'em nearly fifteen minutes to respond." He looked past me at the upstairs window, and his eyes widened. "Oh god," he groaned in horror. "The boy!" Pointing with a shaking finger, he glanced at me hopelessly. "We have to do something."

I swallowed heavily and scanned the gathering crowd. All of the men present were either very young or very old. Damn, I hated fire. But, I couldn't just stand there hoping that rescue would somehow arrive in time. I shoved the woman at the old man and ran toward the burning building. Flames engulfed the front room, climbing hungrily up from the windows to reach for the second story. I went around to the back looking for a way in and found the kitchen door standing open. Smoke swirled, but no flames were yet in evidence. I went inside and stopped at the sink long enough to wet a couple of dishtowels; placing one over my mouth and nose, I headed up the stairs. 

The hallway was hot and the smoke so heavy that I had to move forward by feel alone because my eyes were tearing, effectively blinding me. Once I'd located the door behind which I thought the boy would be, I grabbed the handle then pulled my hand back, cursing. Fuck! It was so hot that I'd burned my hand badly. I used the wet towel and tried again. Yes ... I was in. Now, where was the boy? 

"Kid?" I croaked. "You in here?"

"Mommy," a small voice whimpered.

I dropped to the floor and moved toward that voice. "Talk to me, kid. I can't see."

"Mommy," he cried. "Want my Mommy." 

I slithered across the floor following his pathetic noises, and when I reached him, he threw himself at me, wrapping both arms and legs around me. Stumbling awkwardly to my feet, I went to the window and tried to raise it. No go. The fucking thing was nailed shut. I turned my back and slammed my elbow through the damn thing, wincing at the tearing sensation as ragged shards of glass caught my upper arm. Instead of cool air, flames rushed in at me and I fell back. 

Beginning to think that I just might die tonight, I turned and headed back to the hallway. The fire had reached the second floor and was coming at me at a terrifying speed. Knowing I had only seconds to save the kid - and myself -I raised the hand that had been supporting him and held the wet towel to my face.

"Hold on, kid." I yelled at him as I rushed down the hall. The stairway was filled with smoke, but it looked as if the fire had not yet reached it. I stumbled and slid down the steps, rushing through the kitchen to burst out of the back door. Twisting so that I didn't land on the kid, I fell hard and lay stunned for a moment. Gathering my strength, I rose and made my way around to the front of the house, the kid still holding on with surprising tenacity. I heard the mother wail again. Suddenly people surrounded me, and someone took the kid.

I still couldn't see anything and wiped at my streaming eyes with the towel, blinking repeatedly. A hand landed on my arm, pulling at me. "Come on," a voice said. "Fire's getting worse ... we have to move back."

I frowned as I blindly followed. I knew that voice. Who the hell? Once away from the house, the fresh air hit my lungs and I started coughing convulsively. The owner of the voice put an arm around me and practically lifted me, hauling me over to set me down on the curb. Still coughing and wheezing, I bent over my knees struggling for breath.

A warm hand settled on my back, rubbing soothing patterns, trying to ease the spasming of my lungs. "Easy ... relax and try to breathe through your nose." 

Damn. Who the fuck belonged to that voice? I *knew* I'd heard it before. Not in connection with my neighborhood, though. Raising my head, I blinked again and squinted in the direction of the voice, determined to identify it.

A hiss informed me that I was a surprise to this person. Uh oh. This might be bad ... very, very bad. I'd run to ground here almost a month ago, needing to hide and recoup. Figuring that no one would look for me in the ghetto, I'd thought myself safe. And now, it appeared I'd blown it.

"You!" The voice was low and dangerous. "What the hell are you doing here, boy?"

Boy?! Son of a bitch. I was well and truly fucked this time. Of all the damned people ... It would just have to be him. I stiffened and pulled back. A strong hand closed around the arm I'd cut on the window and I gasped.

"Fuck! Let go of me, you bastard," I said in a pained voice, forcing the words past my constricted throat. "Jesus christ, Skinner, let go of my fucking arm already."

He opened his hand and cursed with surprise. "How the hell did you do that?" 

"Window," I managed to grit out through clenched teeth. The sound of approaching sirens filled the air and I automatically tried to rise. He grabbed my forearm and pulled me back down. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He growled at me.

"Dammit, Skinner ... you know as well as I what will happen if I'm taken to a hospital." I slumped down. Wouldn't you just know it? The irony of it ... I shook my head. Escape the fire, save the kid only to have my past rise up and bite me on the ass. I shrugged and rested my head on my knees.

I hate irony.

Someone sat on my other side and I instinctively flinched away when something touched my face. 

"Man," said a small voice. "Mommy, man hurt." 

After some gyrations, he wriggled free of his mother's hold and leaned against me. He patted my cheek with one hand. "Amalamce come, man. You okay." 

I looked up at him blearily and tried to smile. He put his arms around my neck and hugged me.

This was a new one. I didn't do kids. To be honest, they scare me. They're so little and fragile. And they smell funny. 

Skinner was scary ... but, he wasn't little or fragile and he didn't smell like a kid. I leaned against him, not sure how to unattach the kid and hoping he'd chase it away for its own safety or something.

Then the mother started to cry and put an arm around my back burying her face against the kid. "You saved my baby. My baby." She wailed.

Oh gods, this just kept getting worse and worse. Fire ... kids ... crying women. And, now the kid was crying on me, apparently set off by his mother's tears. He tightened his arms and rested his full weight against me, his tears rolling off of his face and down my neck.

Skinner was suddenly the very least of my problems. I shifted towards him again. Surely, he could get them off of me. "Skinner," I pleaded huskily, "do something."

***

Under any other circumstances, I'd have most likely laughed at the sheer helplessness Krycek evinced in the face of this kid. At that particular moment however, it just didn't quite seem the thing to do. I gently disengaged the kid's hold on Krycek and turned the boy into his mother's waiting arms.

"Thanks," he whispered huskily. Then he started coughing. He hunched over his knees gasping desperately for air. I supported him when it began to look as if he might pitch forward onto his face. Slumped heavily against me, Krycek breathed shallowly with intense concentration on the task.

The rumbling of the firetrucks vibrated through the roadway, and Krycek raised his head, squinting in the direction of the flashing lights. I could hear a voice bellowing over the confusion, asking if anyone was hurt. Rising to my feet, I kept one hand on the back of his neck to hold him in place. I'd learned through years of hard-won experience to never, ever to underestimate the capabilities of this particular rat.

"Over here," I yelled, waving my arm in the air. "He needs oxygen."

A paramedic headed our way and immediately settled an O2 mask over his mouth and nose. Still standing behind Krycek, I watched as the medic reached for his sweatshirt. Krycek immediately tensed and tried to back away from the man, wrapping his arm around his middle as he leaned against my legs.

"Let him look at your arm," I said in his ear once I'd knelt down. 

He shook his head and moaned. His arm closed protectively over the stump of his left arm and he shuffled back again. I sighed and put one arm around his shoulders, bracing him. 

"Hush now," I said in a low voice. "I'll do it." Carefully moving his hand down, I pulled at his sweatshirt. He made a noise of protest and I leaned closer to him. "I'll just pull it off of your injured arm, okay?"

"Here," the paramedic waved a pair of scissors, "I'll just cut it off."

Krycek breathed in sharply and shifted even closer. Dammit - I had not planned on ending up with Alex Krycek in my lap when I'd taken this so-called short cut home tonight.

I shot the medic a quelling look. "No," I said sharply. "I've got it." I pushed his shirt up and carefully worked his right arm free of the garment, leaving his disfigurement covered. 

The medic was careful in his examination; wiping blood out of the way he frowned and looked up at me. "This'll need stitches," he said. "I'll bandage it, and we'll transport him in a minute."

Krycek panicked. He pulled away from the paramedic and ran once again into me, jerked forward. I strengthened my hold across his chest, holding him steady as he moaned and struggled.

"Hold still," I told him. "Let the man bandage your arm now."

"No," he gasped, pulling the oxygen mask off of his face. "Gotta go ... can't let him find me."

I sighed and put my other arm around him. "It's all right," I said into his ear. "I'll help you. Just hold still long enough to get this bandaged."

"Uh, sir," the paramedic protested, "this man needs medical attention."

Jesus H. Christ. //Walt, what the *hell* are you doing?// I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Bureau ID. "I'm Walter Skinner, FBI." I held up my badge. "This man works for me. I'll take responsibility for him. Just get his arm bandaged and I'll get him to the ER."

"But, sir -"

I drew in a deep breath and fixed him with one of my best don't-you-give-me-any-shit glares. "I said, I'll take care of him."

Huh. The AD voice seemed to work as well on firemen as it did on recalcitrant agents. "Yes, sir," the paramedic mumbled.

Krycek shook his head slightly and said something under his breath.

"What?" I asked him.

"I get it," he said as he relaxed against me. "I'm dreaming." He nodded to himself and sat quietly as his damned arm was bandaged.

Once the medic had finished, I rose and pulled Krycek up beside me. "Come on," I instructed. "My car's right over there." 

A police officer walked towards us. "Excuse me, sir. We'll need a statement from this man."

I didn't even pause, just kept walking forward, pulling Krycek along with me. "I'm taking him to the hospital. You can talk to him there."

"Now, sir," the cop planted himself in front of me, unwilling to let me escape with his witness. "The ambulance-"

I stopped and glared at him. Oh, hell. I briefly debated my action, then shrugged and reached once again for my ID. "AD Walter Skinner, FBI. This man is one of my agents, he's working an undercover case and cannot be identified at this time. I will take care of him, officer."

"I still need a statement, sir." 

I stiffened and glared at the officer. "Fine. This is Special Agent Mulder," I could feel Krycek's immediate reaction to that one. "You can reach him at the Hoover on Monday," I told the cop shortly. "Now, if you'll please excuse us."

Ol' Bulldog might be persistent but he wasn't stupid. He got the hell out of my way.

Still unsteady on his feet, Krycek stumbled, and I put one arm around him. I hauled him to the car and dumped him into the passenger seat. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, while I went around and climbed in behind the wheel. I started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"Where are you taking me?"

Damn good question. Where *was* I taking him? Where *could* I take him? I shrugged and glanced over at him. "My place," I finally answered him.

He looked at me for a moment then sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the seat. We accomplished the rest of the trip in silence.

He was so quiet, I thought he'd either passed out or fallen asleep. I parked the car and got out. When I opened his door, he was awake, looking up at me. He sighed and climbed awkwardly to his feet. He came along, unprotesting, to the elevator and leaned against the back wall. When we reached my floor, he walked down to my door and waited for me to get my key out.

I led the way in and shrugged out of my coat and suit jacket. "Come on," I said to him.

He looked at me as if I had spoken in Swahili. 

"Krycek, move."

Frowning in confusion, he remained still.

I sighed and reached for his shoulder. Pushing him ahead of me to the steps, I marched him up to the bathroom. Once I had him seated on the toilet, I reached for his sweatshirt, and he shied back.

"Krycek, I have to clean up that arm."

He subsided and allowed me to take the filthy shirt off. I tossed it on the floor and removed the bandage the paramedic had applied. I leaned closer to examine the cuts and wrinkled my nose.

"You stink," I said.

He shrugged and reached for his stump. When he closed his hand around it, he gasped and jerked his hand away. I frowned and looked at the mangled limb. Couldn't see anything but old scars, though. Closing my fingers around his wrist, I turned his hand palm up and sucked in air when I saw the burns there. 

I stood and opened the medicine cabinet, rummaging for supplies. I lined up what I'd need on the sink then turned to the shower. Once I'd adjusted the temperature I turned to Krycek, reached under his arms and lifted him to his feet. 

"What now?" He asked tiredly.

"Shower," I told him as I unsnapped his jeans. "Then bandages. Then medicine. Then bed."

He nodded and stood quietly as I knelt and removed his boots. I pushed his jeans down and supported him as he stepped out of them. I got him into the shower and started to back away, but he was just standing under the water, unmoving. Realizing that he couldn't do a hell of a lot with that burn on his hand, I sighed and ran a hand across my face.

What the hell had I gotten myself into here? I undressed to my shorts, and got in behind him. Soaping up a cloth, I gave him a cursory wash and turned him under the water, rinsing him off. Reaching around him, I grabbed the shampoo and washed his hair.

He sighed and leaned into the touch.

Uh oh. Steadfastly ignoring my immediate reaction to his vulnerability, I rinsed his hair and hauled him back out of the shower. I dried him, then wrapped the towel around his waist and lowered him to sit on the toilet. Grabbing a second towel, I ran it over my chest, then used it to dry his hair. 

Again, he sighed and leaned toward me. I tossed the towel aside and pushed him upright, turning my attention to his injuries. Burn ointment on the hand and a loose gauze bandage. Good. Now, the arm. I opened a bottle of sterile wash and directed a stream over and into the gashes. 

"Fuck!" Krycek opened his eyes and jerked away.

"Hold still," I grabbed his shoulder. "I have to clean this up before I bandage it."

"Jesus, Skinner. Just put me on the balcony so I can wake up, already."

I frowned. "Did you hit your head, Krycek?" I lifted my hands to his head, feeling carefully for any lumps or cuts but found nothing.

"Stop calling me that," he mumbled.

"Stop calling you what?"

"Krycek." He spat the name out. "Not Krycek. Not my name ... I *hate* that name."

"Okay," I soothed. The guy must be in shock. "What should I call you?"

"Alexei."

"All right, Alexei," I said agreeably as I reached for the antiseptic spray. "Hold still now." I shook the can and quickly sprayed his arm.

He hissed but held steady.

"Stay here while that dries," I told him. He nodded, and I went into my bedroom. I collected a pair of pajamas for him and headed back. He was still sitting there, much to my surprise. I'd really expected to find him trying to get away.

It had to be either shock or a head injury. Maybe both.

Opening a strip of butterfly bandages, I applied them to the worst of the cuts and then wrapped gauze around the whole mess. Shaking pills out of the containers I'd pulled out of the cabinet, I filled a glass with water and held the pills up.

"Open up and take these," I said.

He frowned suspiciously at the pills and looked at me. "What are they?"

"Antibiotics and painkillers."

He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"Alexei, take the pills."

Sighing, he turned back and opened his mouth. I put the pills on his tongue and held up the water for him. Once the pills were down, I picked up the pajamas and knelt in front of him. Pulling them over his feet and up to his knees, I rose and hefted him to his feet. He stood unprotesting as I worked the waistband over his hips, then moved willingly with me into the bedroom.

I threw back the covers and lowered him to sit on the bed. Putting one hand behind his head, I rested his head against the pillow and lifted his legs. He'd started to shiver in a combination of pain and delayed shock, I supposed. I covered him up and got a heavy blanket out of the closet, throwing that over him, too.

I got myself something to sleep in and went to take a shower. I stood under the water and tried like hell to figure out what I was doing and why I was doing it. 

I'd just carefully tended the wounds of a man I knew to be a stone cold killer. And tucked him into my bed. 

I'd lost my mind. 

What did I care if he was killed in the damn hospital? Hell, I should have tossed him back into that burning house.

Yeah - the burning house. From which this amoral murderer, betrayer and multiple agent had saved a kid. 

Apparently, he'd lost his mind, too.

But then, he'd also saved my life. And Mulder's. Probably, I admitted to myself, Scully's too. I felt sure that he had no idea just how much I knew about him... After the nanocyte debacle, I'd made it my business to investigate Alex Krycek as thoroughly as possible. Not that I'd found much -but what I had managed to discover had been most... illuminating. And uncomfortable.

I'd always been attracted to Krycek. Hell, who wouldn't be? I mean, the man is sex on two legs, for god's sake. At first, I'd held back because he was my subordinate and because I was married. Then - well, hell - that night he'd spent on my balcony... I'd tossed and turned all night thinking of him. Just as I had been doing far too often since. And now, here he was. In my bed, hurt and vulnerable and looking better than ever. 

It promised to be a very long night.

I shook my head and got out of the shower.

I went into the bedroom to check and see if maybe it had all been a dream or even a hallucination. No such luck. He was still in my bed. And, he was shaking convulsively, shivering so hard that his teeth were chattering with cold.

Great. I rolled my eyes and gave in to the inevitable. He watched me bemused, as I moved to the side of the bed and lifted the covers.

"Move over," I told him.

Silently, he shifted backwards and I climbed it to lie beside him. I turned off the light and pulled him against me. Stiff with shock, he tried to resist.

"Alex, just come here."

"Skinner," he muttered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm mad."

"Oh." He thought about that for a second, then gave in and let me pull him close. "You're mad, huh?"

"Certifiable." I confirmed.

This seemed to make perfect sense to him. He nodded and lay against me. Slowly, my warmth seemed to sink into him, and he gradually relaxed. It took a while, but his breathing slowed as he fell asleep. 

I lay awake, thoughts chasing themselves around my brain, which was probably a good thing. I hoped I hadn't gone so far around the bend that I'd actually fall asleep with Alex Krycek in my arms.

***

I woke reluctantly, unwilling to climb out of the wonderful warmth and security my bizarre dream had evolved into. My nose itched though, and I raised my hand to scratch it.

Bad move. The nerve endings in my hand came screaming to life and I gasped, sitting up abruptly in my bed.

Except, of course, it wasn't my bed. Absolutely, definitely not my bed. And, my bizarre dream, not a dream after all.

As I sat there gaping, Skinner grumbled and snorted, opening his eyes to frown at me. "What?" 

Holy freakin' shit! I was in bed with Skinner. Walter Skinner. AD Walter Skinner.

The phone rang. I watched in a trance, as Skinner rolled to one side and picked up the receiver.

"Skinner."

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Yes, Mulder?"

I groaned. Hell, he'd given Mulder's name to that cop last night. Soon enough, I supposed, Mulder would come storming through the front door and throw me off of the balcony. 

And then, Skinner put one arm behind his head, grinned and stretched like a great big old cat. "Yes, Agent Mulder, I did give your name to a District police officer last night."

I could hear sputtering noises coming from the phone.

"You don't say?" Asked Skinner. "The press, huh?"

More noises. Increasing in volume.

"Mmmhmm," Skinner rumbled. "Yes, indeed, I can see where that might be a problem."

Sounds that bore a distressing similarity to cursing came from the phone. Skinner's grin widened. "I can't imagine why you don't remember, Mulder. You must have hit your head at some point last night."

I'd never imagined that Skinner enjoyed playing Mulder so much. He did, though. The grin was my first tip-off. The decided twinkle in his eye cinched the deal. I snickered.

"Well, Agent Mulder, I'll be happy to refresh your memory." Another pause. "Oh no, it's no trouble at all. You were working an undercover case in a questionable part of town and there was a fire. You bravely ran into a burning building and saved a young boy. Of course, I couldn't let an undercover operative go to the hospital, so I took you home, bandaged your injuries and put you to bed."

At this point, Skinner put the phone under the covers and laughed. Out loud.

I was amazed. Who'd have thought the big guy smiled, let alone laughed?

He'd been telling me the truth last night ... he *was* mad. Or, an alien.

Once he'd recovered his equanimity, Skinner once again raised the phone to his ear. "What was that, Mulder?" He pursed his lips, listening intently. "Your arm? Hmmm, well, the last I heard that particular arm was in Russia."

Oh, jesus. I snorted with laughter.

Really loud noises coming from the phone now. The words Krycek and Rat and Bastard recurred several times.

Skinner sat up in bed and straightened his shoulders. I grinned, recognizing the signs. 

"Agent Mulder!" Skinner frowned fiercely. It looked a bit strange atop the grin that still decorated his mouth. "You will do no such thing. Do you understand me, Mulder?"

Heh, the VOICE had done the trick. Suddenly the noises from the other end of the phone became much quieter.

"Absolutely not, Mulder. I have excellent reasons for my actions and, all things considered, I think that you'd best rethink your position."

He rested back against the pillows and bit his lip, trying, I think, to contain the laughter I could see brimming in his expression.

"I'm *fine* Mulder." Pause. "No, Mulder ... no aliens, no guns, no blackmail." Another, longer pause, during which, Skinner turned his head and looked at me for the first time since his conversation with Mulder had begun. "Yes, he is ... no, he's not ... Mulder," *sigh* "the man couldn't hold a gun if his life depended on it. He was injured in the fire ... Yes, there *was* a fire ... Yes, he pulled a kid out of said fire ... Yes, Mulder, I am sure he's Krycek..."

At this point he winked at me.

My mouth dropped open in shock and he chuckled.

"What? Yes, I laughed ... No, I do *not* want you to come over, Mulder."

He listened and then held the phone out to me. "He wants to talk to you."

I shrugged. What the hell? I mean, it had become quite apparent to me that my neighbor - the sweet lady - must have been manufacturing hallucinogens in her fucking basement and that I'd gotten a snootful last night during the fire. I just had to stay strong and ride it out. 

He put the phone on my shoulder and I tilted my head to hold it in place. "Hello?"

"Krycek? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mulder, it's me."

"What's wrong with your voice?"

"Smoke inhalation."

"What have you done to Skinner?"

I raised my brows at the question. "I haven't done anything to him, Mulder."

"Why's he acting so strange?"

"Hell, Mulder, I don't know."

"Then you agree he's acting ... strange?"

I nearly choked with laughter. After a couple of minutes of coughing during which I managed to drop the phone, Skinner resettled the receiver on my shoulder and grinned at the expression on my face.

"Mulder," I said, "you don't know the half of it ... the man's laying here smiling and laughing and winking at me."

"Laying there? You're in *bed* with him?"

Oops. "Uh ... well, yeah, actually, I am."

"Holy shit, Krycek!" He sounded a little envious, to tell you the truth. "How... What..." He sputtered for a couple of seconds, then gathered his wits and picked up on what he must have seen as the most amazing part of my description of Skinner's behavior. "He *winked* at you?"

"Yeah."

"I see. Um, listen, Krycek... did you... I mean, did he... Hell, you know what I'm trying to ask."

Oh yeah. I sure did. I lost it. The phone dropped and I collapsed back on the pillows and giggled. Now, I'm not often given to giggles... but, given my drugged state, and Skinner's madness and Mulder's confusion, I decided to overlook my lapse. Skinner raised his brow at me in inquiry and I tried mightily to tell him what had me in such a state. "He... he wants to know if we ... if you ... " I choked and gave up talking, concentrating instead on breathing between fits of laughter.

Skinner picked up the phone and I could hear Mulder's voice rising indignantly and that set me off again.

"Just a minute, Mulder," Skinner said into the receiver. "Krycek's enjoying a fit of the giggles just now."

"He's *what*?" Mulder's voice was so loud that I heard him quite clearly from my side of the bed.

"He's giggling, Mulder ... No, Mulder, we're not drunk ... No, no drugs, either."

//Speak for yourself big boy//

"All right, then. Oh, and Mulder? Stop and pick up something for breakfast on your way over, would you?"

Skinner shrugged and looked over at me. "What would you like for breakfast, Alexei? Mulder's going to stop."

Oh. //Alexei// My giggles stopped and I turned to look at him. 

"What? I called him Alexei ... No, he told me last night that he prefers that name."

//I did? //

Once again, Skinner put the phone to my shoulder. 

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Should I bring Scully with me?"

"What?" My eyes opened wide. "No, Mulder ... absolutely, positively not. Jesus, are you nuts?"

"Well," Mulder said, "I just wondered ... I mean, what if there's really something wrong with him?"

"With Skinner?"

"No, you moron. With President Clinton. Of course, with Skinner."

I snorted. "I think he's all right, Mulder. Just in a ... strange mood."

Skinner started to laugh again.

"He's laughing again, isn't he?" Mulder asked in a low voice.

"Yes, he is. How very perceptive of you, Agent Mulder."

I looked over and saw that Skinner had put a pillow over his face to muffle his shouts of laughter.

"I'll be right there." 

"Okay, Mulder ... Don't forget breakfast."

He didn't answer me. He'd already hung up. Probably falling down in his haste to get here.

Skinner hung up the phone and grinned at me. "Thanks, Alex, I can't remember when I've had quite so much fun."

"Hey, no problem, Skinner." 

"Walt."

"What?"

"My name."

"Oh." I frowned. He couldn't possibly mean ... could he?

"Just remember, when Mulder gets here, my name is Walt."

I fell over laughing. "Oh god, Skinner. You are an evil, evil man." I finally managed to gasp.

He winked at me again. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, Alexei."

Rolling out of the bed, he stretched and ambled off to the bathroom. "I'm gonna get dressed and make coffee. Come on down when you're ready."

I lay there for several minutes, laughing in fits and starts as I reviewed our conversation with Mulder. Poor Mulder. Finally, deciding that I might as well go downstairs, I rose and made my way to the living room. I could hear Skinner in the kitchen and wandered in that direction. I came around the corner and every bit of breath was sucked from my lungs when I saw him.

Wow. I mean ... WOW! He'd dressed all right. In jeans. That's all. No shirt, no shoes, no socks. Just those damn jeans. I'd seen him without his shirt once. 'Course, that wasn't one of the better nights of my life, but still, I'd never forgotten the sight. And now ... well, damn.

He turned and, noticing my slack-jawed stare, grinned and leaned back against the counter. That was when I noticed that the button at his waist was unfastened and that his zipper was not quite closed.

Whatever that lady had been cooking in her basement had been *good* shit. I made a mental note to strike up a friendship with her as soon as possible.

But, in the meantime...

"You dressed, and I must add that I use the term very lightly, that way deliberately, didn't you?" I asked him, still staring in fascination at all that ... all that ... I know I'm repeating myself here but ... wow.

His head tilted back and he looked at me from under lowered lids.

I cleared my throat and swallowed. I eyed him again, then smiled. "I see."

"Do you?" 

Jesus. Who the hell was this guy? Certainly not the Skinner *I* knew. I sent my disbelief to the basement and locked the door.

"Oh yeah," I answered. "Definitely getting the picture here. I only hope you have smelling salts on hand, because Mulder's gonna pass out cold once *he* gets the picture."

***

A mental picture of Mulder swooning brought a gleeful smile to my lips. Alex grinned at me and we broke into laughter again. 

After a moment, Alex looked past me at the coffee and raised a brow. "Is that ready yet?"

"Yeah," I said. "You need cream or sugar?" 

He shook his head, so I poured two cups and carried them to the table. I turned back and gave him an appraising look. "How's the arm this morning?"

He shrugged. "Not bad."

"And the hand?"

That got a grimace. "A little sore."

"Hmm." A little sore probably meant it hurt like hell. "Wait here, I'm going to get you another painkiller and a couple of antibiotics."

I went upstairs and collected the pills, the gauze and the burn ointment. When I got back to the kitchen, he was still standing where I'd left him, staring into space. His expression reminded me of the look on Mulder's face when he was working on a particularly puzzling case. 

I set my supplies on the table and crossed to him. Starting a bit at my approach, Alex watched me closely. Almost, but not quite touching him, I stopped and stared at him seriously. "Are you all right with this?"

A grin spread across his face. "With your evil and salacious plan, you mean?"

I nodded.

"I don't have a problem in the world with it, Walt." He leaned toward me and raised his face to mine.

"That's good," I whispered as I rested my hands on his hips and bent forward to let my lips touch his. I tasted him slowly, savoring the softness of his lips, the warm puff of air that ghosted across my mouth when he exhaled heavily. I raised my head. "What about Mulder?"

His eyes opened slowly, and he stared at me dazedly. "What about him?" He finally asked.

I smiled; this was going *very* well. "You don't have a problem with him either?"

"Nope."

"And, he with us?" I asked.

"Well, at the very least, we'll find out exactly how open to extreme possibilities the Fox actually is."

I grinned and kissed him again, then turned to grab a glass of water for the pills, and a straw. "C'mon and sit down. Take your pills and drink your coffee, then I'll put cream on your hand and rebandage it."

He frowned at the pills when I held them out to him. "Just what kind of pain pills are you feeding me?"

"Tylenol three, that's all. Now, open up and swallow the damn things."

He did as I asked, reluctantly. Once the pills were down, I transferred the straw to his coffee and sat down. 

***

"So, Walt, do we have a game plan?"

He grinned. "I have a couple of ideas, Alexei. Let's wait and see what happens when he gets here."

I looked down at my arm and frowned. "You wouldn't by chance have a shirt I could borrow, would you?"

"You cold?"

"No, Walt. I'm missing an arm, in case you hadn't noticed."

He shrugged. "If you really want a shirt, I'll scrounge something up for you, but that half-naked look really works on you. The arm doesn't bother me, and I don't think Mulder will even take much notice of it."

"Okay, if you think it's best, I'll manage."

"Good," he smiled. He looked at his watch and stood up. "Come on, Alex, let's set the scene. He'll be here soon."

We went into the living room, and Walt directed me to sit on the sofa. He sat next to me and rebandaged my hand. Such a large man... such a gentle man. It had been so very long since anyone had shown me any compassion, that I was close to melting. 

Once the bandaging was done, he kissed me again and arranged me on the middle cushion of the couch. I would be the second thing Mulder saw when he arrived and I just couldn't wait to see the look on his face. I'd wanted Mulder since the first time I laid eyes on him, and Skinner ... well, once you've seen him in full AD mode he's just about the sexiest thing going. And that body. I eyed the expanse of his chest and licked my lips.

"Do you think this'll work?" I asked him.

"Mulder's an odd one, Alexei. He suppresses his sexual urges through violence and insolence. I think he'll go for it - if we handle him right."

"Um, Walt, maybe you should know that I haven't done the threesome thing."

"Not to worry. We'll work it out. Besides, if I'm wrong about Mulder it'll just be the two of us."

Oh. Well... 'Just the two of us'... I liked the sound of that. I liked it a lot! Either way, I was gonna get the chance to bed at least one of the two men I'd been lusting after all these years. 

The doorbell rang and Skinner smiled. "It's showtime."

***

I paced indecisively in the hallway outside Skinner's door for several minutes, thinking furiously. Hell, I didn't know what was going on but ... shit, the two of them giggling like teenagers? Sharing a bed? Skinner winking at Krycek? Krycek the hero - running into a burning building to rescue a child? 

This, I decided, was most assuredly looking like a genuine, bonafide X-File. And, that being the case, my duty lay clear before me. 

I rang the doorbell, holding the coffee in one hand and a bag of cinnamon rolls in the other, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Skinner opened the door, standing back and rubbing one hand across his bare chest. Whoa. For a moment I just stood there dumbly, remembering the last time I'd seen him dressed - well, okay, if you want to be technical about it ... undressed -like this. 

"Mulder," he stepped back to let me in.

His movement jolted me out of my trance. I swallowed heavily and thrust the cardboard tray and bag of rolls into his hands. "Uh, here, sir. Breakfast, as ordered."

With a nod, Skinner took the items and crossed to the couch where Krycek sat. I looked at my nemesis and ... Well, hell. I was in trouble here. Big trouble. The rat had on pajama bottoms. That's all. No shirt, no shoes, no socks ... no arm. And, he looked almost vulnerable. Kind of shy, you know? Those indecently long lashes shielded his eyes as he glanced at me sideways, and I gulped.

Shit.

Trying to salvage the situation, I shrugged nonchalantly and walked into the room. "Hello, Krycek."

"Alexei," Skinner rumbled at me disapprovingly.

Krycek dipped his head to hide his rising blush, and I ... Wait a minute! Blush? He was blushing! What in the *hell* was going on around here? Who were these men? Most important of all, why was I here? If they were doing what I strongly suspected they were doing, the last thing they needed was yours truly in the way. Skinner could have stopped my visit with a very few well-chosen words and we all knew it. Why then had he told me to come over? And bring food?

I concentrated on all of the questions crowding my brain and ruthlessly quashed that inner voice that kept trying to remind me of how much I'd always wanted Skinner: of the way Krycek had always been able to get to me: of my complete inability to control my reactions to the bastard. Of my own loneliness and need. 

Nope - I would definitely not think about why I suddenly felt left out in the cold. Alone again and all that shit.

"Alex is fine," Krycek offered softly in that husky voice made even deeper by smoke damage. He looked up at me and smiled hesitantly. "Morning, Mulder. What did you bring for breakfast?" He grinned. "Walt and I are starving."

//Walt?//

I looked over at Krycek, er, Alex. "Hazelnut coffee and cinnamon rolls," I said blankly, still trying to comprehend the situation. They couldn't really have ... Could they?

"Sir," I turned my head to look at Skinner. "What is going on here? I mean, you and Kry... Alex, aren't um... well, you know."

Skinner raised his brows at me in polite enquiry. "Aren't, um, what, Mulder?"

Bastard. 

"Did you really sleep with him last night?"

Krycek seemed to suddenly find the pant leg of his pajamas to be the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. I stared at him suspiciously. 

"Walt."

"Huh?" I asked brilliantly.

'Walt' shrugged. "Mulder, if you're in my home on a Saturday morning asking me personal questions I think we can forego the formalities." He set the cardboard tray on the coffee table and indicated that I should sit at one end of the couch. "And, yes, we did sleep in the same bed last night."

I opened my mouth to ask the obvious next question, but he stopped me when he continued. "No, Mulder, we didn't have sex. We just slept."

"Oh." I took a seat on the edge of the couch, resting my hands uncomfortably on my knees. Krycek was so close that I could feel his warmth, and I shifted back into the corner of the couch. "Why?"

"Why what?" Skinner asked as he put my coffee in front of me, and added Krycek's as an afterthought. 

"Um... " Shit! This was *not* going at all well. "Why did you sleep with him?"

"Because he was injured and shocky, and I wanted to keep a close eye on him." Damn him, Skinner sounded so fucking reasonable I wanted to scream. "Alex burned his hand badly last night so we'll have to help him eat."

"We will?" Mind like a steel trap, that's me.

"Yes," Skinner said in an uncompromising manner. "We will."

Krycek, the bastard, looked like he was going to bust out laughing any minute. I glared at him, then tuned my attention to Skinner. "Please explain to me why we are feeding the man who murdered my father, was implicated in Scully's abduction by Duane Barry - whom he most likely then killed, assisted in an attempt on Scully's life which resulted in the death of her sister, stole the digital tape ... " I glared at Krycek. "Allowed me to be used as a test subject in a prison camp in Russia..."

"Because his hand is burned and he can't do it himself."

"But, sir -"

"Walt."

Have I mentioned how that oh so fucking reasonable tone of voice Skinner uses to such great effect makes me want to scream the house down? Well, it fucking does!

"Fine," I said through clenched teeth. "Walt, this man-"

Skinner sighed and leaned over to pick up Krycek's coffee offering him a sip with such care I felt a bolt of jealousy sear through me. "Mulder," he said patiently - patient was *almost* as maddening as reasonable, in case you were wondering. "I know exactly who and what Alexei is. Can you say the same?"

I opened my mouth to say... hell, I had *no* idea how to respond to that one. 

"You do?" Krycek looked at Skinner and frowned.

"Alex," Skinner met his eyes then looked at me. "I think it's time you tell Mulder here why you've been hiding out in the ghetto."

Krycek mumbled something as he shifted closer to Skinner. I caught the word 'contract' but no more.

"What?" I asked.

Krycek... *Alex* sighed and closed his arm protectively around his middle. "Because Spender has a contract out on my life."

Skinner - dammit, *Walt* - nodded. "Now tell him why."

"Because you're alive. I didn't kill you."

//Huh?// "Didn't kill who?" I asked.

"All of you," Krycek said reluctantly. "Just like baseball, Mulder. Three strikes, you know? I didn't kill Scully, strike one. I didn't kill you, strike two. And," he looked into my eyes; "I wouldn't kill Skinner... strike three."

Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him. "You don't really expect me to believe-"

"Shit, Mulder, I don't expect one single godamned thing from you." Krycek rose awkwardly to his feet. "Fuck! You know I..." he moved away from the sofa and turned to face us both. "He was not your father, and if I hadn't killed him when I did he'd have told you everything and then *you'd* have been killed."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. I might learn truths here. I could see it in his face. A face I'd hated and lusted after at the same time for years. A face I wished I'd never seen. A face that had actually helped me on occasion, and lied to me the rest of the time.

"Alexei," Skinner growled, "leave it."

Krycek shook his head "No, Walt. Now's as good a time as any for this." He turned to meet my eyes again. "I had nothing to do with Scully's abduction. I *did* keep you from becoming an abductee that day, though."

"How?" I asked, fascinated with this new, restless, relentless harbinger of possible truths.

"You were the target, Mulder. If you'd gotten up to Skyland, they'd have taken you. I couldn't let that happen." He frowned and looked away from me. "As for Duane Barry... I didn't kill him any more than I killed Melissa Scully; but you know that, don't you?" He met my eyes and I could see real pain in his expression. "In Russia... in Russia, you dumb fuck, I almost had us out of there free and clear when you had to..." He blinked, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Fuck you, Mulder. Go home. This was a bad idea." 

I stared silently as he turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll be upstairs, Walt," he said quietly.

Skinner rested his head against the back of the couch. "Mulder, why the hell is everything so damned complicated with you?" He asked the ceiling. "Okay, look, maybe I was wrong. If so, I apologize. You go on home and do whatever it is you do in your free time."

"You're going to..?"

He straightened and sighed. "I don't know, Mulder. After this, I just don't know anymore."

I swallowed. "Sir... um, Walt, why *did* you let me come here this morning?"

He shook his head tiredly. "Because I thought, apparently mistakenly, that you wanted us as much as we wanted you."

//We? Us?//

They wanted me? Uh oh. I began to get the picture and my part in it wasn't pretty. I grimaced. "Sir... how can you justify this?"

With a snort, Skinner rose to his feet. "Justify?" He repeated in a disbelieving voice. "Go home, Mulder. Leave my conscience to me. Just... go on home."

I shook my head in confusion. "But I -"

He bent down to grab his and Krycek's coffees. "I'm going upstairs to check on Alex now, Mulder." He turned to leave the room.

I put one hand on his arm. "I don't... I'm not sure... " //Dammit, Mulder, spit it out already// "I don't know what to do," I finally said helplessly.

One warm hand came to rest on my shoulder. "It is what it is, Mulder," he said quietly. "No more, no less. I want him. I always have. I've wanted you too, but I'll not let your fucking morals stop me from having what I can." He shrugged and dropped his hand form my shoulder. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable with this. I made a mistake."

"It's not so much that I'm uncomfortable..." I said softly. "I'm... "

"You're what?"

"I'm afraid, okay? The idea scares me to death. What if he-" My words tumbled over themselves in a confused jumble. "Everyone leaves me, sir. Everyone dies. I can't let myself care for him... for you that way. It would make it so much worse when-"

The hand on my shoulder tightened. "Mulder, for an intelligent man you can be so damned stupid," he sighed and released his hold on me. "Don't you already care for both of us? What are gonna do, hmmm? Spend your entire life in splendid isolation?"

I shrugged uncomfortably and wrapped my arms around my torso. 

He looked at me for a moment. "Mulder..." With a heavy sigh he turned to the stairs. "I'm going up. Alex needs me."

//So do I//

I stood silent and watched him leave the room.

***

Lying in Walt's bed, wrapped in the heavy comforter, I stared sightlessly at the wall. What the hell had I been thinking anyway? To think that Mulder might want me, might actually be willing to look beyond the obvious... I was a fool. For whatever reason, Mulder had never been able or willing to look at my true motives. I sighed and curled more tightly around myself. 

I heard a movement behind me and closed my eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Alex."

Skinner walked over and sat on the bed next to me. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "Don't be," I said rustily. "I should have known better. He'll never..."

"He's afraid, Alex."

Well, I could understand that. I offered Walt a weak smile and moved back a little, hoping he'd take the hint. "We're all afraid, doesn't he know that?"

He lay down beside me and pulled me into his arms. It was heaven. God, he was so big and warm and he made me feel ... unafraid. I breathed in shakily and burrowed my head into his wide shoulder. I wanted to cry. I really did. I mean, this whole situation was so fraught with emotions and needs and desires that I was fast losing my tenuous control of my own feelings. It was so damned confusing - and so fucking painful - that I just wanted to sob until that comfortable numbness that came after a good crying jag descended.

Of course, I couldn't do that. Hell, I hadn't cried since the night my own father handed me over to that smoking bastard's "care". Over twenty years ago, that had happened. I'd cried that night for the last time. No more childhood for Alexei after that...

"Shh," Skinner soothed me. He rubbed my back with one large hand and with the other he stroked my hair. "This was my fault, Alex... I thought he might just be ready to admit..."

I choked out a laugh. "So did I, Walt. So did I."

Pulling me even closer, he lifted my chin so that our eyes could meet. "I really *am* sorry to have put you through that little scene, Alex." He shrugged and a slight smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Are you okay?"

My arm moved across his chest and I let my bandaged hand touch his neck. "I'm getting there, Walt. We'll be fine," I said, suddenly wanting to offer him comfort. "After all, you did say that if he said no ... um, that you ... that we..." I stumbled to silence, caught by the gentle gleam in his eyes.

"Mmmhmm," he rumbled. "Indeed I did."

Oh my. Suddenly, I felt much better. All was not lost after all - I might want Mulder, but here was Skinner offering me ... so much more than I'd ever expected. "Just the two of us," I repeated his earlier words with a grin.

A faint noise reached me from the hallway and I - I'm a little embarrassed to admit this - I buried my face in Skinner's shoulder and closed my eyes again. 

"Yes, Mulder?" Skinner asked quietly.

"I ah... I wanted to talk to Kry, um, Alex." 

I took a deep breath and rolled to my back. "Go ahead then," I said wearily, careful not to meet his eyes.

He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to... I mean I was kind of ... ah, hell." He rubbed one hand across his eyes and looked at me. "This whole thing really threw me off balance, you know? I... " He sighed. "It scares me, Alex."

"It scares me too, Mulder," I said softly. "But, the way I see it, there's no point in running now. I mean, I've admitted that I want both of you. That was the hard part. The rest..." I grinned. "The rest *should* be easy. Not to mention fun."

Skinner snorted. "You calling me easy, Alexei?"

"I think he's calling you fun, sir." Mulder sounded like he just might be willing to get with the program now.

"Walt."

Mulder gulped. "Sorry, si... Walt."

"Mulder," Walt sighed. "Would you just relax already? We're not gonna jump you, you know."

"Maybe that's the problem," he mumbled.

I laughed. Well, okay, I giggled. Mulder appeared to be quite amazed at the sight. That, of course, only increased my problem. Thing is, I have this annoying tendency to snort when my laughter gets out of hand. When I did just that, Mulder's mouth dropped open.

Then Skinner lost it. He has the most amazing laugh. Deep and booming, it shook the bed under us. That was what finally got to Mulder. His lips twitched, then a reluctant smile spread across his face. Pretty soon, he was bent over, laughing so hard I was afraid he might fall on his face. 

Stumbling a bit, Mulder made his way to the end of the bed and sat down. I caught my breath. Did this mean what I thought it meant? My giggles wound down and I lay quietly, just watching him. Waiting for him to say something, do something, anything that might give me a clue as to what he was going to do next.

He sobered and turned to face us. "Um ... maybe I should warn you that I've never ... ah, well..."

Oh shit. "Mulder," I asked apprehensively. "Please tell me you're not straight." Jesus, wouldn't *that* be a kick in the ass?

Skinner snorted but didn't voice the comment that was obviously just begging to fly free. 

Shaking his head, Mulder smiled. "You must know me better that that, Alex. All the time you've spent near me, you've got to have figured out that I'm bi."

Phew. 

"Okay, so, what is this warning about then?" Not entirely sure I could ever be ready for his answer, I held his gaze and did my best to not fidget while he gathered his words.

"Ah, well... I've been with men, and women. But not at the same time and not in crowds."

"I see." I shrugged. "Well, like I told Walt earlier, I've never actually done the threesome thing myself."

We both turned to look at Walt. 

He smiled. 

We waited. 

He smiled some more.

Bastard.

Finally, I nudged him with my shoulder. "Well?" I asked him.

He raised his eyebrows and managed to look oh so innocent. Hah. Innocent my ass! 

"Wa-alt," I groaned. "Tell us."

"Tell you what?"

I looked to Mulder for help. He blushed a little, but manfully forced the words out. "Have *you* ever, um... done this?"

His smile widened even more and he settled himself more comfortably against the pillows, arms lifted, hands behind his head. "Well," he drawled, "obviously I haven't done *this* specifically..."

"How about generally, then?" Mulder asked with a slight smile.

He was definitely getting into the spirit of the thing. Now, if we could just get him to -

"So, Mulder," Skinner asked, "you gonna climb in here with us, or what?"

//Oh//

"Oh." Mulder looked at Walt then at me. And smiled. Standing up, he removed his shirt and toed off his shoes.

Well, now. Things were certainly looking up here. I grinned at Walt. 

Mulder finished with his shoes and socks and stood at the foot of the bed looking at us uncertainly. "Where do I... I mean, um..."

Good old Walt. He shifted over a bit and patted the spot between us. "Right here, Agent Mulder. Where I can keep a close eye on you."

Wow. I wouldn't have thought it possible for Mulder to turn quite that shade of red. It was a good look for him, I must say.

***

The laughter had helped to relax me. Now, though, with both of them watching me so expectantly, I felt my earlier nervousness returning. In the middle... Damn. Between Skinner and Krycek.

Wow.

With an indrawn breath, I awkwardly clambered up onto the bed and settled myself against the pillow Skinner, um, Walt, had propped up against the headboard for me. Then I lay there not quite sure what to expect next.

"You know," Alex said with a smirk, "if anyone had tried to tell me yesterday that I'd be in this position today, I'd have probably shot him."

Skinner snorted. "A little extreme don't you think, Alex?"

Krycek shrugged and lifted himself a little to look over at Walt. "So, you never did tell us, Walt. Have *you* ever been with more than one person at the same time?"

"Nope."

"Oh." Krycek frowned. "So, essentially, none of us has any idea what to do next."

"Well," Skinner smiled, "between the three of us, I'm sure we have enough experience to fumble our way through this."

Fumble being the operative word no doubt. I sighed, and turned to look at Alex. Tentatively, I lifted one hand to touch his face. His eyelids drooped, shuttering his expression. That was okay, though. His suddenly labored breathing, not to mention the way his chin tilted encouraging my exploration, told me that he didn't mind a bit.

Then Skinner touched me. He trailed his fingers up my arm and then rubbed his palm across my chest and I forgot to breathe. Oh boy. That man has the largest warmest hands! I'd been fantasizing about them for years. Can't help it, I have a thing about hands. Always have. And, Skinner's are definitely in my top ten list. In fact, now that I think about it ... his hands are probably in the number one spot. 

Krycek watched the movement of Walt's hand, then smiled down at me. "Mulder, breathe," he whispered.

I did. And he kissed me in reward.

Talk about forgetting to breathe. Damn. Krycek doesn't need any weapons. He really should consider just kissing his enemies into submission. By the time he drew back I couldn't have defended myself from a two-year-old. I lay there panting; a limp mass of flesh, while Krycek traced patterns across my face with his fingertips and Skinner's warm hand caressed my torso.

What the hell had I been thinking? Jesus, I'd almost climbed up on my high horse and ridden away from all of this. I moaned at the thought of what I'd might have missed.

"I've been watching your mouth for years now, Mulder." Oh. My. God. If Skinner had ever used that voice on me at work... Well, suffice it to say he'd probably still have all that hair he yanked out in frustrated anger over my arguing with him. 

One finger carefully outlined my lips with fire. I was so distracted by that damned finger that I didn't even notice Walt moving closer until he captured my mouth with his own. And that was it for me. Bye-bye brain. I groaned and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him closer as I opened my mouth to let his tongue in.

And, Krycek was nibbling on my shoulder and neck while Skinner explored the recesses of my mouth. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to climb right inside of them ... both of them. 

One of my hands was busy exploring the planes of Walt's back, and ran into the waistband of his jeans. Impatient with the obstruction, I pulled my mouth away from his and frowned at him. 

"Take 'em off," I ordered. Well, I tried to make it an order. The breathless quality of my voice probably detracted from my commanding tone. Whatever ... it worked. He smiled and rolled to his back, reaching for his zipper. I immediately sat up and swatted his hands away.

"We'll do it," Alex said from behind me. 

I turned my head we exchanged a grin. Once he'd moved down to the foot of the bed, I unzipped Walt's jeans and we slowly peeled them off of him. Damn. Old Walt is really something! His legs go on forever and ever. And, muscles... Damn, his legs should be a national monument to something or another. 

I couldn't decide where to start. Then, I just shrugged and followed Krycek's lead. We each worked our way up the outside of a leg with our mouths and hands. By the time we reached his hips, Walt was breathing rather quickly. He groaned in momentary protest when we stopped, then sighed happily when we turned our attention to the insides of his knees and thighs.

Alex reached the apex of Walt's thighs and started nuzzling at his heavy balls. I stopped to watch in amazement as Skinner writhed and moaned under his skilled care. Damn. 

I couldn't tell you exactly how it happened, but suddenly my jeans were unfastened and Walt was tugging at them impatiently. I didn't even hesitate. I pulled them off and tossed them onto the floor without a second thought. As I turned back, I noticed that Alex still had his pajama trousers on.

That was no good. I looked at Walt, then at the offending garment still decorating Alex. Skinner grinned and we wrestled him to the bed and stripped him. That Alex is a beautiful man. Really, truly beautiful. His amputated arm somehow seems to add to his attractiveness. Don't ask me why ... maybe because it's a vulnerability he seldom allows anyone to see. Actually, I was more than a little touched that he trusted us enough to be so comfortable with his weakness revealed.

Walt took up a position on one side of Alex, and I stretched out along the other. We petted and stroked him until he was a wreck. What a responsive lover he turned out to be! Every touch drew a moan or a sigh; he even purred a time or two. It was a most gratifying sight.

I was nibbling at his soft lips when he gasped and arched up. Turning my head, I saw that Skinner had swallowed his cock to the root. I'd have been quite satisfied to lay there and enjoy the show, but Alex had other ideas. He tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled my head down so he could kiss me.

Sorry, did I say kiss me? Devour me would be much more descriptive. I truly don't think I'd ever experienced anything quite like that kiss. His tongue pushed into my mouth demanding complete surrender, which I gave unconditionally. I'll bet he could have drawn you a detailed diagram of my mouth after that kiss. Embarrassingly premature ejaculation was a real concern to me by the time he finally released me.

I dropped my head and chewed distractedly on his neck while trying to recover my control. Groaning and panting from Skinner's attentions and mine Krycek tossed his head restlessly. 

He was so much fun to play with; I just can't even begin to tell you how much. My lips traveled down his throat to the juncture of neck and shoulder. I stopped there for a bit, alternately sucking and licking at him. Judging by the response, that is a definite hot spot for Alex.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Jesus, you're gonna kill me."

Skinner chuckled around his mouthful of cock. I'm assuming that it felt pretty damn good, because Alex shouted and every muscle in his body went rigid.

"Ohmygod," he ... well, I'd say he whimpered, but that really wouldn't fit his macho image. So, let's say he groaned the words. Yeah, that's it, he groaned. "Please stop ... pleasedon'tmakemecomeyet."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Walt lifted his head and studied Krycek's flushed face. "What do you want, Alex?"

The question seemed to strike Alex dumb with surprise. I wondered if anyone had ever shown him any consideration in bed before this. 

***

Green eyes opened impossibly wide, Alex looked at me and then at Mulder. He honestly didn't seem to have any idea what to say. The mute appeal in his eyes was the very last expression I ever thought I'd see in Krycek's face. My cock jumped in response. 

He swallowed audibly and opened his mouth to speak. "I want... I want... " Pausing to gulp air, he met my eyes. "I want you to fuck me, Walt."

Mulder moaned.

Oh yeah, we were cooking with gas now.

"And you?" I looked at Mulder. "What do you want?"

He looked at Alex's cock and licked his lips. 

Hmmm. I considered the possibilities, discarding several scenarios before finally hitting on one I thought would work for us. I nodded and leaned over to get a tube of lubrication from the bedside drawer.

They were watching me closely, obviously waiting for direction, so I provided it. That's why I make the big money, I guess.

"Alex, on your knees." He obeyed with gratifying speed. I smiled and ran one hand over his trembling flank. Boy was anxious. 

"What about me?" Mulder pouted. 

That damn lower lip of his could drive a saint to sin. Unable to resist, I leaned over and gently tugged at it with my teeth. He sighed happily and pressed his opened lips against mine. I leisurely tasted him, mapping his mouth carefully with my tongue. 

A soft touch on my erection broke my concentration, and I opened my eyes to see Alex watching us as his fingers traced random patterns on my cock. He smiled slowly at me and rubbed his thumb in the moisture collecting at the very tip. 

Damn. I held my breath for a moment, collecting my frayed control, then looked at Mulder.

"You," I said huskily, "lay down. No, the other way, so that your head is between Alex's legs."

"Oh." Mulder's eyes were almost completely black; his pupils so dilated with arousal that only the barest ring of hazel was visible. He shifted into the desired position and looked up for further instruction.

I couldn't help but grin. Never, in all the years I'd known him, had Mulder been so eager to comply with my requests. I liked it. I liked it a lot. 

"Give me your hand," I told Mulder. I squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. "Now, get Alex ready for me."

With one hand on his shoulder in support, I urged Alex down until he rested across Mulder's torso, bracing himself with one arm on Mulder's stomach. They were an awe-inspiring sight. 

Alex nuzzled at Mulder's pubic hair, gently pulling the curly strands with his lips, while Mulder carefully used one, then two fingers to open him up. When they were both breathing hard and moaning, I decided I'd better make my move before I came just from watching and listening. 

What did I ever do to deserve this? I still don't know the answer to that one. I hope I figure it out soon, though. Whatever it was, I intend to do it again and again.

Very, very carefully, I applied lube to my straining erection and moved up until the head was pressing lightly at the entrance to Alex's body. He moaned and pushed back towards me. Impatient kid. Gently, I let my hips move, easing my way into his body a little at a time. Damn, he was like a furnace inside. I clenched my teeth and prayed for control.

Then, he gasped and lurched forward. Looking down, I saw that Mulder had opened his mouth and was sucking steadily at Alex's cock. 

Damn. Suddenly, I was thrusting into him, unable to stop. All thoughts of control went out the window as he moaned his response and moved in counterpoint. My hands were moving restlessly over Alex's back, stroking and scratching lightly. I needed a distraction of some kind. Anything to make this last just a little longer...

My eyes followed the long line of Alex's back and fell upon the sight of him sucking Mulder off. Oh god. That wouldn't do. The very sight brought me to the edge. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, gasping for air.

Shit. I straightened in delighted surprise. Mulder's busy fingers were suddenly investigating the texture of my ballsac. When they moved a bit to stroke my perineum, I moaned and closed my hands on Alex's hips with bruising force.

Damn.

"Shit!" I yelled. "Damn, Alex. You are so fucking hot, I-" 

He shoved his hips back towards me forcefully and gave a muffled shout. His sphincter tightened convulsively around me as he came. 

I managed to hold on for all of three or four milliseconds before tumbling over the edge myself. Holding his hips firmly in place, I poured myself into the recesses of his body with a loud groan. 

Mulder had started thrashing in the meantime. His hips arched up off of the bed and he started begging. "God, Alex," he moaned. "Please let me come. Please."

I leaned forward a bit to see exactly what had him in such a state, and grinned. Krycek had closed his fingers firmly around the base of Mulder's cock, refusing him the release he so desperately needed. 

***

Damn, Mulder taste so fucking good. I'd have been happy to suck him all day. Working my mouth up and down his cock, I hummed with contentment. Vaguely, I heard him begging me to let him come, but I couldn't quite bring myself to let him go yet. I tightened my hold, and continued to suck him into my mouth, swallowing him completely every third or fourth stroke. Every time I did that, he whined.

I loved it.

Walt nudged me aside and when I did as he asked, he leaned down and kissed Mulder. Then, he slowly worked his way down the man's body, pausing to give special attention to his nipples.

Mulder shuddered under the dual assault, and his begging continued unabated.

"Please, oh, damn... please let me come. Oh god, I can't stand it." He was whimpering and thrashing and sweat rolled off of his body. 

Damn, he's a gorgeous sight when he loses control. 

Skinner slid down and moved one of Mulder's legs, bending it at the knee and shoving it aside. With an evil little smirk, he ducked his head down and started licking Mulder's balls.

"Oh, Fuu-uuck," Mulder panted. "Jesus, please letmecomenow!" 

I raised a brow at Skinner in inquiry. He wet one finger and reached under Mulder to rub at his asshole, then gave me a nod. I took a deep breath, released my hold and swallowed Mulder's cock whole. 

"Shit! Fuck! YES!" 

Mulder arched up, every muscle in his body trembling, and I felt the contractions begin. I continued to work him until the spasms had stopped, then let his cock slip from my mouth.

"Oh my god," Mulder moaned. "I think you've killed me."

Skinner smiled and pinched his ass.

"Hey!" Mulder protested half-heartedly. 

"If you can still talk, you're not dead, Mulder."

"Fuck you, Skinner," Mulder said, still somewhat breathless. 

"Mmmm," Skinner rumbled. "Maybe next time. I'm too tired right now, you boys wore me out." 

//Next time?// My breathing quickened at the implication. Wow ... next time, indeed.

Walt collapsed onto the bed and groaned. "I think a short nap is in order," he said sleepily.

Mulder rolled onto his side and snuggled back into Skinner's warmth. He sighed happily and looked up at me.

"C'mere," he murmured, holding one arm up. I lay down beside him and he pulled me close, resting his head on my shoulder. His arm closed around my waist and he closed his eyes.

For the longest time, I just lay there, listening to them breath, remembering the past few hours. Damn. I still couldn't believe it. Shitfire, I'd have run into a hundred burning buildings for this. For even a fraction of what we'd shared this morning. It had been the most incredible encounter of my life.

And, continuously running through my brain was the sound of Walt saying, "next time".

Next time...

With that promise ringing in my ears, I fell asleep.

The end  
Finally!

Rescue Me  
Fontenella Bass  
(C. Smith - R. Miner)

Rescue me  
Take me in your arms  
Rescue me  
I want your tender charm  
'Cause I'm lonely  
And I'm blue  
I need you  
And your love too  
Come on and rescue me

 

* * *

 

Author: Jennie  
Title: Silent Sunlight  
Feedback:   
Webpage: http://www.squidge.org/~drruthless/ and http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other  
Pairing: Sk/K - Doggett makes an appaerance  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: Within/Without and Requiem  
Series: Morning Variations #4, sequel to Rescue Me  
Summary: Skinner is in hospital following the events of Without ... Krycek comes to watch over him and gains an unexpected ally  
AuthorNotes: Okay gang. First Doggett attempt. Never fear, I've not slashed him with anyone. This is a sequel, of sorts, to a previous story of mine, called Rescue Me. It can be found on my page at RatB, at DitB or on my page at the Clinic. I do, however think that this one can stand alone - as long as you go in understanding that Skinner, Krycek and Mulder have a relationship of sorts.  
For Marie and Em with thanks for the encouragement! Thanks to Teri, Sandra and Sue for the quick beta. For Sandra ... a little sequel to your birthday story  
Disclaimer: Not mine *sigh*

* * *

STORY: Morning Variations 4: "Silent Sunlight"  
By Jennie

This was fucking ridiculous. 

For an hour now, I'd been hiding in the bathroom of Skinner's hospital room. Fucking Doggett just wouldn't go away. He kept sitting there. And sitting there. When Skinner would shift and mumble, Doggett's hand covered his arm and he spoke softly, offering comfort.

Bastard. Every time he touched Skinner, I wanted to kill him.

Oh, I suppose I should have been glad that *someone* was there for Walt. Scully had sure as hell made tracks for DC as soon as she could. As far as I could tell, she'd stopped in to visit Skinner once - for about two minutes. Then, away she went. 

He hadn't even been conscious for the visit. 

I wanted to kill her too.

He'd by god been there for her after Mulder disappeared. I'd practically had to drag his ass out of the hospital that day. Not, by the way, an easy thing to do. Skinner's a stubborn one. First thing the next morning, he'd been back in her room. And, he'd stayed with her.

So, why was he laying in a hospital room in Flemington, Arizona, blind and helpless? Leaving only a virtual stranger to offer comfort. And Scully definitely MIA.

Doggett. I'd been watching him. Seemed to be a decent agent. A little bit of an idiot. I mean, couldn't the guy see that Kersh was setting *him* up to take the fall he'd obviously always wanted Mulder to take?

Skinner was getting restless again, dammit. I could hear him mumbling and tossing. Fuck, *I* wanted to be next to him. I'd been there with him for hours, keeping him quiet, soothing his nightmares, when Doggett had arrived at am. Biting back a curse, I saw Doggett lean over Skinner again, quietly shushing him.

"No!" Skinner struggled against Doggett's hold. "Where's Alex? I need Alex."

"Sorry sir," Doggett said, sounding confused. "I don't know any Alex. Haven't seen anyone else here tonight."

"He's here ... I know he's here," Skinner insisted, putting a hand up to pull at the bandages on his eyes. "Can't see," he said in a lost voice. "Need to see ... where the hell is Alexei?"

"Please sir," Doggett was starting to sound a bit ragged. "Just lay still, I'll call a nurse." He pulled Skinner's hand away from the bandages and reached for the call button.

Enough. I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. "Stop, Doggett."

Skinner gasped my name. Unfortunately, he used my last name.

Shit.

Doggett turned quickly, pulling his weapon at the same time. "Hold it," he said firmly, and rather reduntanly aiming his gun at my chest.

Well, hell. This wasn't good. Not good at all. I raised my hand, showing that I held no weapon. "Doggett, I'm Alex ... the Alex he's asking for. Let me go to him."

His eyes narrowed. "Krycek? You're Alex Krycek?"

"Alexei," Skinner said in a needy tone. "I couldn't find him again. He was here ... I know he was here." His voice hitched and he slumped back against the pillows. "Where the hell *is* he, Alex?"

I glared at Doggett, willing the man out of my way. "Walt," I offered, "we're gonna find him. Remember? You said we'd find him." I looked at the gun still trained on me. "Doggett, please. Let me go to him."

"Alex," Skinner fumbled at his bandages again. "Alex!"

"Walt," I said firmly, "leave the bandage alone." Suddenly, Doggett's gun was the least of my problems. Ignoring him, I moved to Skinner's side and grabbed his hand. "Walter, leave the bandages. I'm right here."

Doggett reached for my shoulder, I suppose he was protecting Skinner. I shook him off and concentrated on Walt - who was getting more agitated by the minute. "Hey," I said softly, resting one hand on his face, "take it easy, Walt."

Sitting up, Skinner reached for me with desperate intensity. "Lexi, I can't see."

//Lexi?// That was a new one. I tucked it away for later examination. 

"It'll be okay," I soothed. "The doctor said you'd be fine. A couple of days and the bandages will come off." I sat on the bed and put my arm around Walt, pulling him against me. "Hush," I murmured into his ear. "Trust me, babe. Your eyes will recover - you'll see again. Just give it time."

Doggett drew a deep breath and stilled. I frowned at him, wondering why he had that expression on his face. Slowly, he lowered his gun to his side.

What the hell was his problem? I ran my words through my mind and ...

Oh shit. Babe. I'd called Skinner babe.

Maybe I'd have to kill this Doggett guy, after all.

"You and Skinner are ... " His voice trailed off and he shrugged. 

I stared at him warningly. Hell, why this? Why now? "I ... yes, we are," I said in a low voice. "You got a problem with that?"

The man actually blushed. "Uh, no ..." he said uncomfortably. "Not my business ... I'm just a little surprised, that's all." He shifted uneasily, obviously searching for words. "He's so ... um, he seems so ... straight. I never thought ... " He looked at me with a frown. "And, you're ... what you are."

I could feel my eyebrows climbing up at that. "Oh? What exactly am I, in your opinion?"

With a sigh, Doggett finally returned his gun to its holster and ran one hand over his face. "Hell, Krycek. You're practically a legend in the Agency. Everyone knows about your double-dealing. That you're a ... that you betrayed Mulder and Scully. It's common knowledge."

I shrugged. "What everyone knows isn't worth a plug nickel, Doggett. Don't make assumptions based on gossip; you should know better."

He said nothing, simply watching as I returned to calming Walt. I looked over my shoulder at him and suggested he get a nurse, that it was time for a pain shot. With a nod, he left the room.

Bustling in with ruthless efficiency, the nurse gave Walt his shot, the glared at us. "Gentlemen, visiting hours are long over. You'll both have to leave now so that Mr. Skinner can rest."

Doggett and I exchanged a look, then he pulled his ID out of his pocket. "I'm here to protect him, ma'am. This," he nodded at me, "is my partner." He smiled winningly at her. "We won't disturb him. We just want to be sure he's safe."

Reluctantly, the nurse agreed to our continued presence in Skinner's room. After a stern admonishment to let Skinner sleep, she stalked out.

I looked at Doggett, wondering why he'd just done what he'd done. He met my eyes with a studiously bland expression. "In this, Krycek, we *are* partners. We both want to keep him safe."

I blinked in confusion. I knew why I wanted to be here; what was Doggett's reason?

"Why?" I finally asked him baldly. "Why are you here?"

He cleared his throat and shifted his feet restlessly. "Because I'm learning that he's a man to admire. Because he's been honest with me. Because he's a good man, I think."

"Alex?" Skinner asked in a worried voice. "Who's here? Who are you talking to?"

Perching on the edge of his bed, I reached for his hand. "Agent Doggett is here, Walt."

"Oh shit." Trying to sit up again, Skinner clutched at my hand. "You'd better go, Alexei. He might arrest you."

"Hush, Walt. It's okay. We've talked."

Frowning in confusion, Skinner cocked his head trying to locate Doggett by sound alone. "Agent Doggett?"

"Yes, sir." Doggett stepped closer to the bed and spoke softly. "I'm right here."

"You won't cause trouble about Alex being here? Won't tell anyone else?" Skinner's words were starting to slur as the drug took effect.

"No, sir," Doggett answered firmly. "I give you my word. I haven't seen Krycek and I don't know anything about him."

That seemed to soothe Skinner's fears and he let me lay him back against the pillows. I cupped his face in my hand and lightly kissed his lips. 

"Sleep now, Walt. We'll watch over you."

He sighed and raised one hand to cover mine. "Promise you'll stay?"

"Yes, I promise to stay as long as I can," I said softly. "If I have to go, Doggett will be here, okay?"

"'Kay," he mumbled.

I waited a few more minutes until his breathing indicated that he'd fallen asleep, then rose and turned to face Doggett. 

"I suppose we'd better talk," I said reluctantly.

Doggett gave me a studiously blank look. "Don't know about what, Krycek. We're both here to watch him ... to keep him safe."

I stared in him silence for a beat. "Doggett," I finally said in a roughened voice. "I don't ... I can't ..." I paused, gathering my confused thoughts. "Why are you willing to do this, Doggett?"

"You're helping him to find Mulder, aren't you?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "We both need to find him, Doggett. He's ... Mulder is important to us - to both of us."

Doggett shrugged. "Well, Krycek ... whatever you are, whatever you have been, I can see that you care for Skinner, and he for you. I think he needs that right now. And, I suspect that you have ways and means that are unavailable to me ... to him."

I studied his face, searching for any signs of deception. Doggett met my gaze openly, and nodded. "I mean it, Krycek. I ... I won't mention your presence here tonight, on two conditions."

Ah. My eyes narrowed. Here we go - the truth at last.

"What conditions?"

"You stay in touch with me ... you let me know how your search is going. And... you watch him," he nodded to Skinner's sleeping form, "he needs someone he can trust right now."

"He has Scully ... he has *you*, Doggett. What do you expect of me?"

Looking back at Skinner, Doggett smiled reluctantly. "Agent Scully doesn't trust me, Krycek. I think she trusts no one - not even Skinner. And I ... I'll do what I can, Krycek, but you are what he needs ... you, he trusts. The way one can only trust a lover."

I shifted, uncomfortable with the way the conversation was developing. "What would you know about it, Doggett? How can you just think that a couple of minutes gives you any real understanding of my relationship with Skinner?"

"And with Mulder," Doggett said quietly.

I drew in a deep breath and turned away. This man saw too much. 

"Listen, Krycek ... may I call you Alex?"

I turned to look at him again. "Alexei," I corrected him.

Doggett smiled. "Fine, Alexei. I'm John, or JD, if you prefer. I ... understand more than you might think, Alexei. If Skinner trusts you, I will trust you. Until," he gave me a hard look, "until I have reason not to do so. But," and now his expression softened, "that won't happen, will it?"

I swallowed. "And Scully?"

He shrugged. "I'll be a good partner to her, Krycek. Do my best to keep her safe, be her backup on her search."

"She's pregnant, you know."

That surprised him. He frowned a bit and stared at me, mentally examining the ramification. "Is it ... who's the father?"

I shook my head. "Don't know, John. I have my suspicions, though ... and, it's not pretty. She'll need support if I'm right."

With a nod, he agreed. "I'll watch her, Alexei. For you, and for Mulder and Skinner."

"Thank you," I said simply, not knowing why I placed such trust in the man. There was something in that direct and honest stare that told me he'd keep his word. 

A sound of protest came from the bed and we both looked over to see that Skinner was once again filled with the fear and horror of his drug-induced dreams. 

"Go to him, Krycek. Calm him." Surprisingly casual, even after our conversation, he turned to leave the room. "I'm going for coffee. You want anything?"

Silently, I shook my head in negation. Going to Walt's side, I sat on the bed, soothing him with soft words and touches. I'd have to leave in the morning. Much as I wanted to stay at Skinner's side, it just wasn't safe for either of us.

Doggett paused at the doorway. "Krycek," he said carefully, "I know you can't stay. I *will* watch him for you when you can't be here." He paused, apparently unsure about voicing the question that preyed on his mind. Having taken note of the way Doggett's eyes kept studying my prosthetic arm with curiosity, I rather expected his next question.

"Ah, Alex ... what happened to your arm? Are the stories true?"

I met his eyes, searching for any signs of pity or prurient curiosity. Saw none. I shrugged and grinned, unable to resist. "My arm is in Russia, John."

He nodded and returned my smile. "I see," he responded, appreciation of my grim humor apparent in his eyes. "I'll just go see about that coffee then."

I watched him leave.

Glad to have an ally ... heartened to know that *someone* would watch out for Skinner in my absence.

"Hush, love," murmured to my lover, laying so helpless in the bed. "We have help, Walt. We'll be okay, now. You'll be safe for now."

"Alexei," he whispered in a sleepily drugged tone.

"Yes, Walt." I leaned closer, pressing my cheek against his. "I'm here ... I'll always be here for you, lover."

With a sigh, Skinner relaxed into peaceful rest again.

Morning would be here all too soon and I would have to go. I had work to do -and, with Doggett protecting Skinner for me - I could concentrate on that, knowing that this almost-stranger would protect him in my absence.

I sat up and started making plans for my next move.

I *had* to find Mulder.

I just had to ... I'd not made many promises in my life. Very few. And, not once had I meant one so fervently. 

I would do it. Both for Skinner and for me.

And ... with Doggett's promise of help, somehow, I had a renewed sense of hope.

I believed. I *believed*.

We three could do it.

We had to.

I settled myself comfortably at Walt's side and waited for morning.

  
Silent sunlight, welcome in   
There is work I must now begin   
All my dreams have blown away 

"Silent Sunlight"  
Cat Stevens'

 

* * *

 

Title: Christmas Day, In the Morning  
Author: Jennie  
Series: Morning Variations 5  
Pairing: Sk/K with a touch of Mulder/Doggett  
Rating: NC-17  
Feedback: Yes, please. <>  
Archive: Yes to RatB and DitB - all others ask first  
Web Pages: <http://www.squidge.org/~drruthless/jennie/jennieslist.htm> <http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other>  
Disclaimers: Not mine, no copyright infringement intended  
Spoilers: Oh, gee ... Everything through Invocation  
Summary: It's Christmas, Mulder's still missing, and JD goes to spend Christmas Eve with Walt and Alex. Things happen.  
Notes: Well, this is a sequel to Silent Sunlight. Thanks to Teri and Sue for the terrific beta.  
Warning: Unalloyed holiday schmoop  
This is for all of the wonderful folks who never fail to send me feedback. You know who you are. Love to each and every one of you!

* * *

***

On Christmas Day, In the Morning  
By Jennie

***

I juggled various packages awkwardly as I waited for someone to open the door. Standing off to one side, I once again wondered what in the hell I was doing here.

Christmas Eve with Skinner and Krycek. Hell, I liked Skinner well enough. And, Krycek was turning out to be a most interesting man. But... seriously, how many people spend Christmas Eve with their gay boss and his lover? Said lover being, naturally enough, an assassin and a multiple-agent with who knows what as his final agenda.

Oh yeah. Wouldn't Kersh love to hear about it?

And then there was Scully. Jesus, the woman would be wearing my balls as earrings if *she* ever got wind of this.

The door swung open and Skinner stood there smiling so genially that it was vaguely frightening. "Evening, John," he offered in a friendly tone as he swung the door open and stepped back. "Here." He grabbed a couple of my packages as they started a slow slide towards the floor. "Let me give you a hand there."

I nodded my thanks and followed him in. "Merry Christmas, sir."

He frowned at me. "Walt, please."

I shrugged. "Well, if you prefer," I said doubtfully.

"Relax, John. It's Christmas, you're here to share the holiday with us -let's leave the office formalities where they belong." With another smile, Walt set the packages down on the table and took my coat.

As I walked to the living room, Alex came bustling out of the kitchen. He had a dishtowel tucked into his waistband and was wiping some unidentified substance off of his hand as he walked toward me. "JD," he greeted me merrily. "How the hell are you?"

"I'm good Alex. You?" I opened the bag I was still clutching and handed him the bottle of wine I'd brought for dinner. "Here, looks like you're the cook tonight?"

He directed a teasing grin at Skinner. "Well, since the turkey won't fit in the microwave, I didn't have much choice."

Skinner snorted. "Bullshit." Nodding in Krycek's direction, Skinner pasted a look of mock disgust on his face. "He has some very strange ideas about Christmas dinner. You wouldn't even believe what he thought we should eat."

Okay, I would play. "What?" Watching Krycek with feigned suspicion, I straightened and moved to Skinner's side. "You mean he didn't *want* turkey?"

Alex started to protest, but Skinner spoke right over his objection. "Sturgeon in aspic, John... brined cucumbers... kutya."

"What," I asked with trepidation, "is kutya?"

"It's porridge," Walt announced in tones of deepest disgust. "Made from wheatberries, rice and raisins."

I pasted an appropriately horrified expression on my face. "Porridge? With fish and cucumbers? For Christmas?"

"Now look here," Alex sputtered. "That is a traditional Russian holiday meal. When I was a kid-"

Skinner shook his head mournfully. "He grew up in Russia, you know. I suppose we'll have to make allowances."

I nodded slowly, sending Alex a look of great concern. "Luckily, you seem to have convinced him to at least *try* the turkey."

"Next year," Alex announced huffily, "dinner is at your place, John." With that, he stalked off to the kitchen mumbling something about stuffing the turkey with sturgeon.

Skinner chuckled and moved to the bar. "How about a drink?"

"Sure," I agreed easily, much more relaxed now. "Got any rum?"

"Yeah," he said. "How do you like it?"

I shrugged. "A splash of Coke will be fine."

He mixed me a tall drink as I went to the hall table and collected my packages. I turned back and paused. "Should I put these under the tree?"

He eyed the gaily-wrapped parcels with some misgiving. "Uh, John, you didn't have to-"

I shook my head and headed over to place the gifts with the others gathered at the base of the brightly-lit tree. "They're nothing fancy, si - um, Walt. Just a couple of little things I picked up." And, damn, I was glad I had - I could see at least two gifts with my name on them hidden amongst the presents for "Walt" and "Alexei".

Something crashed loudly in the kitchen. I jumped up and looked at Skinner with alarm.

He grinned, relaxing indolently against the sofa cushions. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you, John. Alex gets a little, ah, temperamental when he cooks."

A series of vicious epithets in a fascinating mixture of English and Russian floated in from the area in question. I nodded in complete understanding and joined Skinner on the couch.

"Yeah, my ex was the same way. She used to-" Whoa. Not a good subject. "Never mind," I said uncomfortable with my slip. I'd promised myself, dammit. Swore and bedamned that I would not think about her... about them. Not tonight.

Skinner cleared his throat and sipped his drink. "I understand, John."

I realized that he did, in fact, see. He knew the whole fucking story. And, maybe someday I'd even want to talk to him about it. But not tonight. I shifted on the sofa, settling myself more deeply among the cushions, and took a deep swallow of my rum and coke. It occurred to me that this was most likely the reason for my being here. We all needed some kind of buffer between us and those we'd lost.

"JD?" Alex called from the kitchen. "Would you come in here and give me a hand?"

I climbed to my feet and headed in that direction. "Yeah, Alex?" I asked as I went through the doorway. I viewed the shambles of Skinner's kitchen with a grin. I didn't even want to think about what some of the stains decorating the floor and walls - and ceiling, I saw when I looked up - might be.

"Is there anything left for the meal?" I teased.

He snorted and handed me two oven mitts. "Fuck you, JD. Get the turkey out, please."

As directed, I bent to retrieve the turkey. Then I stood helplessly, looking for a clear spot on which to place my burden. Seeing the problem, Alex quirked a brow at me and solved my dilemma with one easy sweep of his arm across the small table. Various bowls and implements and what looked an awful lot like a jello mold (please god - if you have any mercy in your soul I will *not* find sturgeon in aspic at the table) went crashing to the floor.

I set the bird down and was headed for the safety of the living room when his laser green eyes fastened on me. "Here." After handing me a battered mixer, he turned to scrabble through a drawer in search of something or another.

"Ah ha," he announced triumphantly, turning back with the beaters clutched in his hand. They were even more disreputable looking than the mixer.

"You mash the potatoes, okay?" Practically throwing the beaters at me, he next started rummaging through the freezer. "I need to get the peas and rolls going."

"Fine," I agreed. "But first, I'm gonna go get my drink. You need one?"

"Yeah," he answered distractedly as he read the instructions on the box of frozen peas. "Bring me a glass with ice and tonic."

"Just tonic?"

"Vodka's kept in the freezer, JD. Don't you know *anything* about Russians?"

I shook my head and went to get our drinks. Skinner was watching the news but looked up with a grin when I walked in.

"Ah, made your escape, did you?"

I grimaced at him. "No, I just came for my drink - and something for Alex. I have to go back and help."

"Sorry to hear that, John."

Strangely enough, he didn't sound sorry at all. In fact, his tone was laced with open amusement.

Smart-ass bastard.

"I'd watch it if I were you, Walt." I smiled at him with evil innocence. "My house next year, remember? And, since you have no idea what *my* ethnic background is..."

Leaving him to chew on that, I went back into the disaster area formerly known as Skinner's kitchen.

Krycek pointed at the pot boiling merrily away on a back burner. "The potatoes, John? And when you're done with that, the turnips need mashing, too."

I got the potatoes and poured the water off into the sink. "What should I use to mix 'em in?"

"The pan," he said, sounding as if he were patiently explaining something to a particularly dim 5-year old.

"Alex." I turned to glare at him as he poured a generous amount of vodka into his tonic. "This is Calphalon, the mixer will ruin it."

He shrugged, completely unconcerned. "All the bowls are dirty or broken."

I sighed heavily and washed a bowl. After wiping some unidentified and very gooey substance off the electrical outlet, I plugged in the mixer. From the fridge, I gathered margarine and milk.

"Hey," Krycek objected. "This is a *holiday*, JD. Use real butter." He sent me a conspiratorial look. "Just don't tell Walt. His doctor has him on a low-cholesterol diet."

"Yeah, right... then Skinner's cholesterol count is up and you tell him that *I* insisted on butter."

He grinned and winked at me.

I couldn't help it - I laughed aloud. Suddenly, I was really happy to be here. After a full week of debating the question, rethinking my acceptance of Alex's invitation to join them tonight, I finally felt as if I belonged here. It was a strangely comforting feeling.

Skinner peered around the doorway. "What's going on in here?" he asked a tad suspiciously.

"Nothing at all, babe," Krycek answered blithely. "Dinner'll be ready soon. How about opening the wine?"

Without any outward sign that the state of his kitchen was anything other than completely normal, Walt grabbed the bottle of wine and located the opener rather easily amidst the clutter. He carried the wine out to the table and turned back.

"What else can I do?" he asked. "Should I carve the turkey?"

"NO!" Alex answered quickly and forcefully. "JD will do it. You go back out and sit. We'll let you know when it's ready."

"But-" Skinner started to protest.

Alex pushed him towards the door. "Go," he instructed, giving Walt a quick kiss. "Sit down. We have everything under control here."

After eyeing the state of his kitchen doubtfully, Skinner retreated with a shrug.

"That was close," mumbled Alex as soon as Walt was safely out of the room. "You wouldn't believe what that man can do to a perfectly innocent turkey with a carving knife. Last year, Fox-"

Oops. I realized that the subject of Mulder was as off-limits for them as my family was for me. I studied his downcast face for a moment, then set the mixer down and went to put one hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find him, Alex," I said softly. "You know that."

He nodded without looking up. "I know," he whispered. "I do, JD. He'll be back. It's just so hard, you know."

"Yeah," I slipped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. "I do know, Alex. I know all too well."

He looked up at me and I realized that something in my voice had alerted him to the fact that I wasn't just talking about Mulder here.

"We've both been trying so hard to not dwell on it," he said quietly. "But, we only had the one Christmas together, all three of us, and it's so fucking difficult to not think about him this year."

"It's been my experience that the best thing to do is to concentrate on what you do have, Alex. After all, Walt is here."

Alex huffed a laugh against my shoulder. "Yeah, you're right." He pulled away murmuring, "Thanks."

In a surprisingly companionable silence, we finished preparations for dinner. While I carved the turkey, Alex carried a motley assortment of bowls and pans out to the table. When I carried the turkey in he was frowning at the table and rubbing at his lower lip.

"Something's missing," he mused. "What did we forget?"

I eyed the spread. Looked like everything we needed was there. I shrugged. "Dunno, Alex. Looks fine to me."

"Cranberries!" he announced, and headed back into the kitchen.

Walt wandered in and looked at the odd assortment of serving dishes. He sighed. "Damn good thing I got him new bowls for Christmas. Chef Hurricane there is killing my household budget."

I chuckled and sat down along with Skinner. Krycek hurried back in carrying a - shit! He'd put the cranberries in a large Pyrex measuring cup. Biting down hard on my cheek to control my amusement, I concentrated on pouring the wine.

Once we were all settled with full plates in front of us, Walt lifted his glass. "A toast?"

Alex and I nodded and picked up our wine.

Skinner looked at me with one brow raised. "John? You're the guest."

I paused for a moment, frowning in thought, then raised my glass. "To those we've lost. And, to the day we see them again."

We each took a moment to remember then drank. And, surprisingly enough, though I'd sworn not to think of him, this moment didn't hurt quite as much as I'd expected. In fact, I felt real hope for the first time in forever.

***

Walt and I spent at least an hour cleaning the kitchen after dinner, while Alex retreated to the living room to watch television. Skinner growled and grumbled under his breath the entire time. I might have believed in his anger if I hadn't seen the fond grin that snuck up on him periodically.

Once the dishes were clean and the leftovers were stored in the fridge, I picked up a sponge and some spray cleaner intending to attack the stains on the walls and floor.

"Don't bother," Skinner said. "He'll be making a big breakfast in the morning. Might as well wait until that's over with to really do a good cleanup."

I snorted. "He always make this much of a mess?"

"No, not always. Holidays seem to inspire him to greater effort, though."

He grabbed a pitcher from the refrigerator and turned to look at me. "You like eggnog, John?"

"Of course."

"Good. Go sit down, I'll be out in a minute." Skinner got three glasses down and waved me away. "Go on. This is my secret recipe. If you learn it, I'll have to kill you."

I laughed and did as directed.

Alex was sitting in front of the TV, remote in hand. As he cycled through the channels, he bitched at great length about the fact that there was absolutely nothing on worth burning electricity for.

"Hell, Alexei," Walt teased as he entered the room, "tell him the truth. You're just mad because your favorite show hasn't been on this year."

Now, you're gonna think this is odd, but I knew what show Alex wanted to see. In fact...

"Uh, listen," I said tentatively. "I have something I want to show you. Hang on a minute."

Rising, I went to where Skinner had left my coat and pulled out the videotape I'd almost left at home, not entirely sure why I'd tracked it down in the first place. You see, it came to me in a dream. No, really - it did. Truth to tell, I'd been having some very strange dreams ever since the night Alex had called me and invited me to spend the evening with him and Walt.

The first one I chalked up to the phone call. It made sense to me at the time. Alex had sounded so... I don't quite know how to describe it. Kind of hopeful and scared and hurt, all at the same time. It was pretty obvious that he was looking for something, anything - even me - to distract them from memories of Mulder on Christmas Eve. I could understand and sympathize.

I know the feeling, you see. But, that's neither here nor there.

The thing is, that night I had a dream about Mulder. Oh, it wasn't anything earth shattering. It was actually a fairly quiet, almost normal kind of a dream. Well, I guess that's not quite true. You know how dreams are so... *not* real? This was too real. Too normal.

So, what was this dream? Mulder, of course. In my bedroom, sitting at the end of my bed, just talking to me. Asking me questions, telling me Alex stories, Scully stories, Skinner stories. That first night, he told me how he'd met them all. The second night I heard about Samantha. Then, on the third night, he brought out the big guns - the conspiracy, the smoker, and Krycek's part in the game.

Of course, every morning I went in and tried to find something, anything to confirm or deny these stories. Scully herself broke down and told me about her first case with the X-Files. And, let me tell you, getting that story out of her without arousing her suspicions was damned tricky. But, I managed.

Then, I wished I hadn't. Because, of course, it was the same story Mulder had told me. First chance I got, I checked the files - same story again.

Gotta tell you, I was *not* thrilled when the second dream was once again confirmed, this time by Alex. He, I think, just assumed that I was quite naturally curious about Mulder. When I asked him about Samantha, he paused for a few minutes, but he told me the story.

By the third day, I knew that asking questions would only make Scully and Alex very suspicious. Hell, it made *me* suspicious. I didn't know *what* was going on. And, Mulder was in my dreams every night - all week long. He told me far more than I wanted to know. The night he told me about how he and Krycek and Skinner got together, I was beyond disbelief. I just knew it was all true.

I didn't understand it. I still don't. But, there you are. *He* was the one who told me about Alex's favorite Christmas show. *He* was the one that suggested I take along the copy of said show... No, I'm not going to tell you why I had a copy. That particular subject is not open for discussion.

So, I retrieved the damned tape from my coat pocket and walked over to the television. "This is a... well, someone I cared very much for just loved this cartoon. Would you two mind if I put it on?"

Of course, they didn't argue. I could see the knee-jerk reaction from Skinner to the word cartoon, but I ignored it. Like I said - not open for discussion. I put the tape in and resumed my seat on the couch.

Alex still held the remote and, at my nod, he hit play. Then he sat in openmouthed silence when the music started.

"JD?" He whispered after a moment. "How did you... I mean, I can't believe you-"

Skinner gave me a searching look. "John?"

I shrugged. "I told you, I had it at home. We used to watch this every Christmas Eve, before - well, before."

And, it was true. We *had* made something of a tradition of watching this every year. The thing is, I wouldn't have normally dragged it over here -but Mulder had insisted. In last night's dream he'd been very clear on the subject. Alex loved this show. It was never on anymore. I *had* to bring it with me.

So, I did.

Which is how I ended up watching Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol with Skinner and Krycek on Christmas Eve.

Alex was enchanted, of course. And Skinner... well, he was pretty much just enjoying watching Alex. But, every once in a while, he'd give me this look. He knew there was more to it than happy coincidence, I could see it in his eyes. I was sure that he'd have some pretty damned uncomfortable questions for me at a later date.

At any rate, we watched the show together. And, we drank. Well, actually, I drank. They sipped. As the show ended, Alex started yawning. Skinner decided that I'd had far too much to drink and should therefore sleep in the guestroom. I argued half-heartedly for a few minutes before giving in. We said our good nights; I went to bed and fell asleep immediately.

If only I'd known. I thought the dreams I'd been having all week were strange. Shit, they were *nothing* compared to the trip I was about to take through the looking glass.

***

I lay still, trying to figure out what had awakened me so abruptly. Eyes still closed; I listened carefully, thinking that perhaps it was simply the strangeness of sleeping in Skinner's home that had disturbed me.

"I know you're awake, John."

That opened my eyes. I rolled to my back and looked at him in stunned amazement. Sitting Indian-style at the foot of my bed, studying me with a serious expression, was Fox Mulder.

I sat up and leaned against the headboard, gathering my thoughts. "Mulder?" I finally asked weakly.

Smiling gently, he nodded. "Why are you so surprised John? You've seen me every night this week."

Ah. I saw then. Another dream.

I didn't see him move, but I jumped, startled when nimble fingers pinched my leg. "Hey!" I stared at him, wide-eyed. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm no dream, JD."

Shit.

"So," he asked me with a grin, "was Alex surprised?"

The tape... which I hadn't dreamed. Had I? It crossed my mind that possibly the whole fucking week had been a dream.

He reached out to pinch me again but this time I saw it coming and moved my leg out of his reach. "Oh no you don't," I protested.

"I told you, John - I'm not a dream."

Okay... this had passed up strange and was heading quickly into scary. "Mulder, what the hell is going on? Why are you here? *How* are you here?"

He looked away for a moment, then drew a deep breath and faced me. "I had to choose one person, John. Only one. That was the deal."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I admit it, I was lost. "Choose? For what?"

"They gave me this chance, John, to come back and see someone. I - well, I couldn't see Walt or Alex without seeing the other. And Scully," a pained expression crossed his face. "Well, I just couldn't do this to her - I can't stay, John. This is my last night here for now. How could I go to her and then leave so quickly with no real explanations?"

Whoa. What the fuck was he talking about? "Mulder, what is going on here? Start at the beginning, please."

He shifted and sighed. "John, I can't, I just can't tell you much. That's part of the deal, you see."

What deal was he talking about?

"With *them*." He leaned forward and stared at me, trying to convince me by sheer dint of will, I think. "I can't explain anything yet, John. I'm sorry, I wish I could. I just can't. If you could just-"

Just what, I wondered.

"Believe that I'm here... that I can't stay... that this is real."

Damn. The guy wanted me to believe. I drew a deep breath and arranged the pillows more comfortably behind me. "Okay, Mulder. How about this... tell me why you chose *me*?" //And, how the hell did you even know about me?//

He shrugged. "I saw you."

//Huh?//

"Where did you see me, Mulder?" I finally asked slowly. "We've never met. I'd remember *that*."

"I... it's so damned hard to explain in a way you'll understand, John. In a way it's as though *I'm* dreaming. Sometimes I can... tap into what's happening here. I became aware of you not too long ago; in Arizona, the night you met Alex."

Well, that certainly cleared things up. Ever try to see through mud?

He laughed. "Sorry, John. I just don't know how to say it... not without breaking the agreement."

I was beginning to get a little uncomfortable with the way he was responding to my thoughts as much as my comments. The guy wasn't a telepath - at least no one had ever said anything to hint at such an ability.

"Don't worry about it so much. I'm not riffling through your memories or anything like that. I just - well, I can see your dreams - and your nightmares. Sometimes I can see what you're doing during the day. And, when I'm this close to you, I can hear your thoughts if I concentrate."

Oh hell. My nightmares. That meant he knew about -

"Yeah," he said softly, "I do know." He raised a hand when I opened my mouth. "I understand, John. Not open for discussion." He met my eyes with understanding and sympathy. "But, I think that may have something to do with how easy I found it to, um... connect with you. You know?"

Yeah, I knew. Samantha.

I frowned and looked away. I really didn't want to think about it. The holidays were always dicey - memories crowding at the surface. Tonight I'd actually allowed thoughts of the past to cross my mind - and, for the first time, the tearing pain of loss hadn't crippled me. But, this was pushing it.

"Okay. So, tell me why?" I went back to my earlier, unanswered question. "Why me?"

"Because you're involved with all of them," he answered. "You're the common denominator now. Tell me... tell me how they are. How's Scully holding up?"

"She's a strong woman, Mulder. You know that. She's-" I paused, not sure what to say. "We get along pretty well, all things considered. Though she does make me crazy sometimes."

"How so?"

I sighed. //How so?// Shit. How not, would be more to the point.

"Ah." He smiled widely. "That's my girl."

I snorted at the very thought of Scully being anyone's 'girl'.

"And Walter and Alex?" he asked in a low voice.

"They miss you terribly. But, they have each other - that helps."

"Yeah. It's hard, knowing how much they're hurting. I miss them too. It's funny, John. I was alone for so long. I was used to it. Then Scully came along... and Skinner, and then Alex."

Shifting a bit, Mulder wrapped his arms around himself. I looked more closely and saw that he was shivering. He glanced up at me and I could see a haunting sadness in his expression that tugged at my heart.

Reaching out, I put one hand on his arm. "Shit, Mulder! You're freezing." I tugged at him, pulling him toward the head of the bed. "Come on, get under the covers."

Settled against a pillow with the blankets pulled up under his chin, Mulder looked all of twelve years old - a scared, lonely, miserable twelve-year old. I had a sudden urge to hold him, to offer a little warmth and companionship. Hesitating, unsure of whether my offer would be accepted, I lay there dithering.

"Please?" He whispered as he moved closer to me.

Opening my arms, I pulled him to me. He felt... right, I decided. Curled up against my side, with his head resting on my shoulder, he felt good.

It was rather disconcerting, actually. I'm straight, you see. Irredeemably. Or so I'd always thought.

"No one's irredeemable, JD."

Shit. "Will you stop doing that?"

He laughed at me. "Sorry." He shrugged and cuddled closer, one arm wrapping itself around my middle. "It's just that -"

"Don't worry about it," I said softly, petting his hair with one hand. "I'll learn to live with it, I suppose."

"You know," he said slowly, "it might be just that I remind you of -"

//NO//

He stiffened and tried to pull away.

Instinctively, I tightened my hold on him. "No," I said quietly. "You're fine where you are. I just... can't talk about him. Not tonight."

"I understand."

And, I knew that he did. It was strange - being so well known by a virtual stranger. But nice.

Quietly we lay there; each caught up in his own memories, examining our losses and our regrets.

Shit!::

I jumped when the word just appeared in my head. Mulder buried his face in my shoulder and shivered.

::Get him out of here. Make him go *away*::

//What the fuck?// I opened my eyes and looked up.

Oh hell. Krycek was at the door.

::Please, John. Make him go... I can't see him... can't talk to him... Pleasepleaseplease::

"Hush," I whispered, putting one hand to his hair. "It's okay."

Looking up to meet Krycek's suspicious glare, I sighed and raised my hand to point at the hallway. With obvious reluctance, Alex backed out of the room. Before closing the door, though, he gave me a questioning look. I nodded and indicated that I'd be right out.

Mulder was shaking against me and a suspicious wetness was gathering on my shoulder. "How the hell," he said in an unsteady voice, "did he know I was here?"

I shrugged. "Alex would always know, don't you think?"

He gave a half-hearted chuckle and nodded, rubbing his tear-dampened face against my shoulder. "I suppose he would."

Reaching over to the bedside table, I grabbed a Kleenex and handed it to him. "Here. I've got to go and tell him... something."

He rolled away from me, scrubbing at his face with the tissue. I paused before rising to examine his expression. "You will be here when I get back, won't you?" I finally asked.

He shrugged. "It might be better if I just go."

//No// I sent the thought at him forcefully. //It would *not* be better -not for either of us//

::You're sure about that, huh?:: With a sly grin, Mulder 'spoke' into my mind again.

"Yes," I said aloud, needing the comfort of the familiar spoken word, "I am sure. Now," I sat up and met his eyes, "promise me you'll be here."

::I promise::

//How the hell did Scully and Skinner survive you, you little bastard?//

With raised brows and an impudent grin, he sat up and blew his nose. "Go ahead, JD. I'll wait; I promise."

Feeling somewhat less than reassured, I reluctantly climbed out of the bed and headed towards the door. I paused with my hand on the knob and turned back to him.

::I *promise*::

I sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

A faint glow from downstairs led me to Alex. I paused midway down the steps and watched him for a moment. He'd turned the tree lights on and was sitting on the floor studying the brightly colored packages arranged on the treeskirt.

"Why?" He asked without looking up at me.

Hell, I sure didn't know. I opened my mouth to tell him so-

"I can't stay, Alexei." Well, it *was* my voice. The words, though, were most definitely not mine.

//Dammit, Mulder//

::Hush JD, let me explain to him::

Krycek rose to his feet and gave me the most intense look; I felt as if he'd riffled through my entire mind and that I no longer had a secret left in the world.

::Alex is good, but I'm better:: A gentle ripple of amusement accompanied the thought.

Shit. I walked down and crossed to sit on the sofa. Krycek watched my every move through narrowed eyes. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and met his look squarely.

"Don't ask, Alex," I said slowly. "I haven't the vaguest idea how he's doing it."

"Alex," my voice again - not my words. Again. "I can't stay. Not yet, anyway. I just - I needed to be here tonight. This is the only way I could manage it."

I had to give Krycek credit, the guy seemed to accept this completely unbelievable scenario without a moment's hesitation. "Mulder, why are you with him and not us? And, why aren't you down here telling me this yourself?"

"I can't, Alex. I'm sorry... more than you know. But, if I see you - see Walt - I won't be able to leave again. And I *have* to finish this." My voice grew rather unsteady towards the end and I tensed.

//Mulder, if you make me cry, I'll kill you//

Krycek snorted.

//Jesus! Mulder, will you for god's sake not let any *more* people into my mind. Please?//

Alex lost it. The man was giggling. I couldn't believe my eyes.

::Wait 'til he starts snorting, John. The giggles can't hold a candle to *that*::

"Mulder," Alex gasped with difficulty, "do you mind? If you give away all of my secrets, the mystery will be gone between John and me."

My days with the NYPD were starting to hold a certain nostalgic charm just about then. Missing men appearing in my bed in the middle of the night, giggling assassins, mental telepathy - what had I ever done to deserve this kind of madness in my life?

"Too late JD," Krycek informed me gravely. "You're a part of the X-Files now; that means you're stuck with us."

Mulder snorted.

In my mind, of course. And, judging by the expression on his face, Alex had heard it too.

"How long has this been going on?" Alex asked.

"Entirely *too* long," I answered aloud.

::Just this week:: Mulder answered in his own inimitable way.

Bastard.

Krycek offered me a sympathetic look. "Do you begin to see now, John?"

I slumped against the sofa cushions. "Christ, Alex, how in hell have you people put *up* with him for so long?"

"Because we love him," Alex said with perfect sincerity.

A wave of sadness and regret washed through me at that. Mulder was reaching the end of his tether; his pain was overwhelming. I caught my breath and slumped back into the sofa cushions.

"Alex," I said carefully, "this is hard for him. He could only see one person - that was the deal, he said."

Alex frowned. "But... why you?"

"He couldn't see either you or Walt without seeing the other and he didn't want to, um, appear to Scully and then just disappear." I met Krycek's eyes. "He says that I'm the common denominator now. Somehow, he became aware of me and has been visiting me lately. I think it helps him - this way he can reassure himself that you're all okay."

Alex came over and sat next to me on the couch. "Mulder, *will* you come back to us?"

::Yes, Alex. I will. But not yet. I have to finish this.::

"We miss you Fox. We need you."

::I need you too, babe. I love you both so much.::

Moving closer to me, Alex leaned against my side. I found myself placing one arm around him and resting my cheek against his hair.

"How long can you stay?" Alex asked in a low voice.

::Only for this night, Alexei.::

Alex straightened. "Walt will want to -"

::God, no. Just this is pushing the envelope, Alex. I was only supposed to 'see' one person. And... it would hurt that much more to see him.::

Alex nodded and leaned against me again. "I guess I can understand that. He won't be happy, though."

::He'll understand, Alex.::

"Yeah, I suppose he will. Eventually." Alex sighed and wrapped an arm around my middle. "This has hit him hard, you know. I've done what I could to convince him that it wasn't his fault - but, you know Walt."

Another crippling wave of sadness hit me.

"Um, Alex," I said carefully, "this is hurting Mulder. I think we'd best go back to bed now."

"Oh, but-" Alex protested.

::I'm sorry, Alex. I... it hurts to talk to you and know that I can't touch you or see you.::

Reluctantly, Alex pulled away from me. "So, you'll stay with JD tonight?"

::As long as I can. He's a good man, Alex.::

Krycek smiled sadly. "Yeah, he is." He directed his attention to me. "You'll help him, JD?"

Uncomfortable with being discussed in this manner, I shrugged awkwardly. "I'll do my best, Alex. He's an... interesting man."

Alex and I rose to our feet and stood staring at each other for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak then blushed. I frowned, wondering what had brought that on.

::He wants us to hold him, JD::

Ah. Well, I could do that. I stepped closer and gathered Alex into my arms. "Go to Walt, Alex. Hold him. I'll take care of your Fox."

He hung on to me with desperate strength for a minute, then sighed and drew back. "You go on up, John. I need a moment."

With perfect understanding, I nodded. I turned to leave.

::Kiss him::

Oh hell. Why me? I don't kiss men.

::Open yourself to extreme possibilities, JD::

Krycek snorted. "Mulder-"

"It's okay, Alex." I stepped closer and put my hands on either side of his head. His eyes opened impossibly wide as I moved in and pressed my lips to his.

Surprisingly, I found that a kiss *is* just a kiss. Alex's lips were soft and accepting and he tasted wonderful. Kind of spicy. He melted against me and put one hand on my chest. It was nice.

::Never forget that I love you, Alex. Nothing will ever change that.::

Alex pulled back and nodded. "Thanks JD."

"Merry Christmas, Alex," I said as I turned to head upstairs.

He watched me - us - leave with a sadly understanding and accepting expression.

Mulder was crying again. I climbed into the bed and gathered him into my arms. "Hush," I murmured. "They'll be okay. Just knowing you're alive will mean the world to them."

With a hiccuping sigh, he wrapped himself more firmly around me. "I know, I just can't stand to hear such pain in Alex; and, I want so much to see Walt. Be with both of them."

"We take what we can get, Mulder. You know that. And I'm sure Alex thinks the pain is worth it. So will Walt."

"Yeah," he whispered.

Gradually he relaxed against me. I lay there enjoying the warmth of another body in my bed and found myself slipping into sleep.

*****

Warmth.

Heat.

Oh god! I arched up into the inferno engulfing my straining erection. Restlessly, I tossed the covers aside and sighed deep in my chest.

It had been so long. So very long. I reached down with one hand carded my fingers through the silky hair of the person lavishing my aching cock with such loving attention.

There was something different here. Very short hair. Very. I let my fingers trail down to caress a cheek and - Shit! Stubble.

::I'll stop if you want, JD::

Ah. Mulder. Extreme possibilities...

For about a nanosecond I considered telling him to back off, then he swallowed my cock whole and I gasped. Oh god! No one had ever deep-throated me; suddenly I understood why men spoke in hushed tones about the experience.

"Fuck! Mulder that's so good," I moaned. Man or woman mattered no longer... the pleasure was just so overwhelming. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

A rather loud groan reached my ears from Walt and Alex's room. Normally, listening in on another couple's lovemaking would have made me uncomfortable. But, not tonight. Somehow it only increased my own excitement.

Softly stroking Mulder's head, I sighed and lost myself in the sheer pleasure of having my cock attended to so lovingly. His mouth was silky heat, his tongue an incredibly limber torture device, lashing along the length of my erection attentively, thoroughly, deliciously. And his throat... christ almighty. Every time he swallowed me the rippling effect along my hardness made me see stars.

****shift****

He raised his head to smile at me and in the dim light I saw another face. Krycek.

What the hell? How had Krycek gotten here?

Before I could protest, he slithered up my body and grinned at me as he lay atop me, our cocks pressed firmly together. Damn. It felt so fucking good... so right. I put my arms around his shoulders and reached up to kiss him.

Fuck! The man could kiss. I lost myself in the warmth of him, his tongue eagerly exploring my mouth, stroking my tongue, learning me in a way that took my breath away.

Some dim corner of my brain protested. I was straight, had never wanted a man in this way.

Ignoring that annoying voice, I wrapped my arms around Alex and stroked his back. Such smooth skin. And so warm. The firm musculature under that satin skin was strangely arousing. Nothing like the softness of a woman.

I liked it.

My hands wandered down to cup his ass, pulling his groin more firmly against me.

****shift****

Dizzyingly, I found myself on top of a body. I broke away from the kiss and opened my eyes.

Skinner. With an expression I'd never seen in his eyes. He looked up at me with... was that love?

I realized that Mulder was somehow doing this. I had no idea whether I was awake or asleep - and, I didn't care. I smiled down at Walt and kissed him again. He groaned and opened his mouth wide, opening himself to me. The kiss grew more heated and I found myself rubbing my cock against him, wanting... needing more.

****shift****

"John," Mulder again. "I need you to fuck me, John. Can you do that?"

"Fuck me, Walt," I heard from the other room.

"Please, JD," Mulder whispered. "I need-"

"All right, Mulder," I agreed. "But, I've never done this before. You'll have to help me."

"No problem. We need-" Rolling away from me, he opened a bedside drawer and pulled lube and a condom out with an air of triumph.

I watched breathlessly as he squeezed some lube onto his fingers and opened himself for me. He tore the foil envelope open and carefully rolled the condom over my cock.

"How do we do this?" I asked huskily.

"Just like with a woman, JD." He lay on his back and lifted his legs, making room for me. "C'mere... on top of me."

Unsure of myself, but wanting this with a desperate intensity, I lay atop him and paused.

Mulder grinned at me and reached down with one hand to place my aching cock against his opening. "Go slowly, John. It's been a while."

Slowly, hesitantly, I pushed. Oh god, he was tight. And hot.

"Oh god, Walt," Krycek groaned from the other room. "You feel so good, babe."

Heart pounding, I slowly sank into Mulder's body. Once I was fully encased, I stopped to catch my breath. With a wicked grin, he reached up to pinch my nipples.

"Fuck, Mulder," I moaned. "You keep that up and it'll be over in short order."

****shift****

I was on my back. The man sitting on my erection groaned and ground his ass against me.

Krycek. Looking like hell's own archangel. His face was flushed and a sheen of sweat made him glow with pleasure.

"Oh yeah," he whispered. "That's it, babe."

He looked down at me and bit his lip. Laser green eyes were glazed over with the extremity of his need. "Fuck me."

****shift****

Skinner stroked my chest soothingly. "Easy now... let's make this last."

Damn. Skinner was inside of me... fucking me. And it felt too good to bear. He shifted his hips and hit a spot that felt so incredible that I almost bucked him off in reaction.

"Hell with that," I groaned, pushing my hips up against him searching for that wonderful feeling again. "Just fuck me, Skinner - oh, god - that's so good."

****shift****

"Touch me," Mulder sighed. "Touch me, John."

With one hand, I grasped his rock hard cock and started a slow stroking motion.

"Oh yeah," he gasped. His legs wrapped around me, pulling me more forcefully into him. He tightened his muscles and I caught my breath.

"Mulder," I warned. "I'm gonna come - you feel so good - so tight and warm."

****shift****

"Come for me, babe," Krycek demanded. He gasped and his muscles tightened around me. "Ummmm... so good..."

****shift****

"Ohgodohgod," Mulder groaned. "Do it, John. Do it for me."

I tightened my hold on his erection and pumped more firmly. "Not without you," I moaned. "Come for all of us, Mulder... c'mon."

And he was coming. Hard. The resulting contractions around my cock sent me over the edge with a shout. Dimly, I heard matching sounds of completion from Walt and Alex. I don't know how, but I *felt* them reach completion too.

I believe it was the most intense orgasm of my life.

Drained, I slumped down on top of Mulder. Gasping for breath, I considered trying to figure out just what had just happened.

::Just believe, John.::

Limply, I moved to one side and pulled Mulder to lay against me. He reached down and gently removed the condom, tying a knot in the end and dropping it over the side of the bed.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Mmmm," I hummed, beyond words at that point. I rested my cheek against his soft hair and sighed happily.

****

"Hey JD, get up!"

I opened my eyes blearily and groaned. Jesus, what the hell time was it?

The door opened and Alex stuck his head in to grin at me. "C'mon JD; it's time to open presents!"

Shit. I wanted to bark at Alex, tell him to leave me alone to sleep. Between the eggnog and the strange dreams I'd been having all night, I was in a sorry condition. But, Alex was so eager - like a kid in his excitement at the prospect of presents. I just couldn't resist his eagerness to rip into his presents.

Carefully, I rose, head pounding and muscles stiff. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs. Walt took one look at my pained expression and smiled sympathetically.

"Coffee in the kitchen, and aspirin in the cabinet over the sink," he offered.

I stumbled into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of caffeine. Shook out two aspirin, looked at them and shook out two more. I leaned against the counter and inhaled my first cup, poured another and headed out to the living room.

Alex was sitting on the floor in front of the tree examining the presents with joy. "About time," he groused. "Sit down and let's get going here."

"Worse than a kid," Walt said. "He's been up for hours now. I had one hell of a time persuading him to let you sleep in."

I grinned at him. "Thanks, Walt. I had a rough night. The eggnog gave me very strange dreams."

We settled in and Alex started parceling out gifts. They got me a couple of books and a bottle of very old scotch. I had to laugh at the books: "The Celestine Prophecy" and "Communion".

I watched closely as Alex opened one of my gifts to him. I'd had second and third and fourth thoughts about it. But, in the end, I decided that he'd get a kick out of it. Mulder had assured me so.

He stared at silently for a beat. Then he started laughing. Lifting it out of the box, he showed it to Skinner.

It was a bundle of pencils, razor sharp and ready to throw.

Skinner choked. "If I find pencils in my ceiling I'll come after both of you."

Alex read the note on the inside of the wrapping paper with a smile: "Keep the pencils sharp for me, Ratboy." His eyes grew moist and he coughed to cover his emotions.

Once he'd recovered, I watched anxiously as he opened his second gift. Mulder's basketball. Mulder's idea. It seemed to work, though. Alex cleared his throat and turned to watch Walt open the gift I'd brought for him.

Skinner lifted the framed photo and just stared, a suspicious brightness in his eyes.

"Where did you find this, John?"

"In Mulder's files. I thought you'd like to have it."

"What?" Alex asked curiously. "Let me see."

Walt turned the picture around and Alex caught his breath. "Oh my god," he whispered.

"I don't remember this being taken," he said, examining the photo of the three of them caught in a relaxed moment. A lovely spring day, apparently they'd been on their way out for lunch. All three wore suits, looking quite dapper. Mulder in the middle, Skinner and Krycek looking at him with matching expressions of fond tolerance. Mulder, of course, wearing that impish look that said he'd just imparted some extremely improbable theory.

"John, I don't know what to say," Skinner murmured. "I... this is... I'll treasure it."

Uncomfortable, yet pleased by his reaction, I turned my eyes away. And spotted a small audiotape tucked away under the tree. Curious, I picked it up and read the note attached.

"Play me", it said.

I showed it to Alex and Walt. They both looked as confused and curious as I felt. I shrugged and went over to the stereo. I hit play and stepped back to listen.

"I saw three ships on Christmas Day  
On Christmas Day -"

"No, wait ... that's not quite right -" Mulder's voice.

"I saw *four* ships on Christmas Day  
On Christmas Day   
On Christmas Day  
I saw four ships come sailing in  
On Christmas Day in the morning ..."

  
>>>Have a Very Merry, all!<<<


End file.
